Two Winters
by guineapiggie
Summary: England, 1950: Elijah Mikaelson is determined not to let anyone see what two world wars have made of his family. Under the reign of his mother Esther, ballet student Katerina Petrova keeps an equally terrible secret. In two winters, they will change each other - but will it be enough to save them? [KALIJAH-focused; all-human AU; rated for violence, language, dark/mature content]
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own The Vampire Diaries or The Originals. No money is made of this. This was written for the purpose of entertainment only.

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Huge thanks to LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou who beta-read every single chapter!

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**Two Winters**

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**Prologue – January 1951**

_People were shouting all around him; orders, prayers and cries for help mingling into a painful, deafening thunder disrupted only by the staccato of the bullets flying on either side. His mind was oddly blank, he was functioning, not thinking, not feeling. There only was a single thought echoing through his empty head – _he was going to die_… _

_His father lay motionlessly in his study, blood black as ink soaking the expensive carpet; Niklaus stood next to him. His skin was chalky white and his hands shook violently. There were fresh bruises forming on his jaw and his cheekbone; he had a bloody lip and from the way he stood Elijah guessed there were more injuries. "I had to stop him. He would have killed me, Elijah," his brother whispered, his voice hoarse…_

_He gripped his brother by the collar of his shirt, shaking him. "What do you have to do with all this?"  
"It-", his brother stammered, staring at him with glassy eyes. "It was an accident. I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't, I didn't even know that woman-"_

_"Caroline-" He grabbed the girl by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Listen to me. My brother is traumatised, he can't think straight when he's being provoked, it was an accident. Caroline. Promise me you won't say anything. It's not his fault. Promise me you'll help keep my brother save-"_

_His mother's voice, cold and quiet. "You shall accompany my son Elijah."_

_"The honour's all mine, Miss Petrova."_

_Tchaikovsky, the music reaching a crescendo, and even from afar he could see the way her brown eyes shimmered in the stage light, see the delicate blush glowing on her cheeks. She was so beautiful…_

_"I came to see you dance."  
A small, radiant smile appeared on her lips. The next moment, he could feel himself being tugged forward by the collar of his shirt, felt her soft lips on his and forgot everything…_

_Piano chords echoing through their empty, haunted castle of a house, forming a familiar, comforting melody…_

_A searing pain shot through his hand when it hit his brother square in the face with an ugly smacking sound. He drew a shuddering breath and stared at the spot where Niklaus's skin was turning bright red, feeling like all air had been sucked from his lungs…_

_Soft brown curls between his fingers; he was sinking in those chocolate-coloured eyes, feeling warm and more awake, more _alive _than he had in years…_

_A young man, his face bloody, was squirming on the floor, begging in a wild mixture of Russian and English, sobbing, bargaining for his life…_

He woke with a start. The bedroom was dark, only the crisp white sheets glowed slightly in the moonlight. He felt disorientated – there was nothing but clean linen underneath his fingers where he had expected warm liquid; white sheets and dark wooden floor where he had expected scarlet splattered all over his world. His limbs were hopelessly tangled in the blanket sticky with cold sweat. He felt ice-cold and shaky; some heavy weight seemed to be lying on his chest.

The curtains danced in a cool breeze and Elijah caught himself wondering whether he had really opened the window before he'd gone to bed.

He kicked off the sheets with some effort and stumbled out of bed. Shivering with cold and a diffuse panic he couldn't explain, he staggered across the hall, aiming vaguely for the kitchen when he noticed a small pool of light seeping from the study underneath the door. He entered, all but running into the door as he did, and found his brother sitting on the couch next to the fireplace with a glass of scotch.

"Seen a ghost, Elijah?"

His breath still not quite under control, he stopped in the middle of the room, willing his eyes to focus properly, but they didn't.

"I think I'm going insane," he whispered, feeling more lost and colder than ever, despite the fire crackling in the mantelpiece.

Niklaus did not even look remotely surprised by his brother's absurd behaviour.

"I know the feeling," he answered instead, offering him the bottle with that broken, disenchanted smile of his.

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_***Author's Note*** _Well, there I am now. I've been working at this fic for three months now and decided to upload it now that I've got two thirds of it done. I suppose I should be able to upload once a week, so keep posted ;)  
Don't worry, it'll all become clearer. Just pay attention to the dates in the headline, that should help to keep up. Please take a moment to leave a review and tell me what you think of it so far!


	2. Chapter One

If you ever need music for this story, have a look at my tumblr. You'll find the link on my profile ;)

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**Chapter One – September 1950**

Katerina stared at herself in the mirror and could hardly recognise her own face. Her mother's pearl earrings seemed just as strange to her as her long brown curls that flowed freely over her shoulder and down her back. The blouse felt too stiff, the grey woollen skirt too heavy, the shiny black shoes too rigid and the tights itched. She hated her school uniform.

Katerina was used to herself in a heavy white tutu, her long dark hair in a bun so tight it gave her a headache.

But tonight, they were not to look like ballerinas, Mrs Mikaelson had said. Tonight, they were to look like young ladies. They had been allowed jewellery, even make-up, but Katerina did not have any. Katerina did not feel like a lady. She just felt like someone who had been put into a stranger's clothes; it felt wrong and slightly scary.

But, if Katerina Petrova could do anything, then she could survive. She could fit in anywhere – even in a room full of so-called "young ladies".

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

On the way to the dancing room, she almost sprained her ankle in these awful shoes. She hated them with a fierce passion. Caroline too looked sullen and pale, but truth be told, she was still gorgeous. She looked like an angel, flowing blonde waves and big cornflower eyes.

Rebekah did too, obviously. Well, that was not a surprise, she _always _looked perfect, and of course she did. She was the Mikaelson's only daughter, and the school's dancing champion. She looked perfectly happy and excited – of course she did, she was the only one who had nothing to fear.

"Who d'you think they'll choose?" Bonnie whispered in her ear.

Katerina threw a quick look over her shoulder; they weren't supposed to be talking. "Rebekah, of course. You know her brother's never danced with anyone else."

"That still leaves two others," Caroline replied, her voice tense. Those were the first words she'd spoken all day, which was more than unusual. She had been chosen last year.

"Well, we all know it won't be me, I danced like an elephant this term," Bonnie chattered away, completely oblivious to her friends' obvious turmoil. "And anyway, I look rubbish in this tie-" Suddenly Bonnie gasped and stared at Katerina. "Oh my God, Kat, where's your tie? Mrs Mikaelson will _descend_ on you-"

Katerina's hand shot up to her collar, but it was no use – it wasn't there. She swallowed hard. "Maybe she won't notice," she said faintly.

"Are you insane, of course she will," Caroline hissed. "If you're quick, you can still get it, but for God's sake don't be late."

Katerina cursed, then nodded and spun round. After a metre or two, she stopped and jerked the shoes off her feet. Then she ran on, her lungs burning as she stumbled up the endless staircase back to her dormitory. There was the tie, obviously, right where she'd put it this morning, on her dresser. Katerina grabbed it and tied it in running. Her heart stuttered with fear – what if she'd be late, what if she'd be late, what if she'd be _caught? _Mrs Mikaelson would be furious_, _she would make her dance extra hours for _months, _she would only send her to bed when she collapsed in front of the mirror…

Suddenly, she heard voices. Her breath caught in her throat and she skidded to a sudden stop, pressing herself against the wall.

"Take someone else, Elijah," she could hear one of them whine, a man, rather young by the sound of it. She didn't recognise any of her teachers, and going by the posh accent and the fact he was talking to Elijah, the eldest Mikaelson son, she guessed it was one of his younger brothers.

"Why would I do that?" This voice was clipped and one-hundred percent composed, strict.

"Because your brother, who loves you dearly, implores you to take someone else to that stupid dance. It is just one night, you know, and God knows the company of a young woman would do you good," the other went on, practically begging.

"And who is this brother you speak of?"

The other one groaned. "Me, you bloody moron."

"Well, your choice of words really does underline your declaration of love, Niklaus."

_Klaus, _she thought with a shudder. He was, perhaps, the most handsome of the three brothers, but also the most intimidating one. There were dreadful rumours about that man, they said he had a terrible temper, and he did have something distinctly violent about him. His wolfish posture, his hungry eyes – the only one who apparently didn't shrink back at the sight of him was Caroline. It had been him who'd taken her to the dance last year, and though when she came back she made an awfully upset impression on the others girls, she had that fond, somewhat sad smile on her lips when she spoke of him.

Pressed against the wall, Katerina edged around the corner to see that they had disappeared down the corridor. She let out a shaky breath, put her cursed shoes back on and hurried into the dancing room, slipping through the door with the last of the other students. Her heart still pounding, she took her place between Bonnie and Caroline.

.

The room was full of people, but eerily quiet. One could have heard a needle drop.

The entire ballet school stood there, all the girls lined up along the mirror that covered the entire long wall of the room with their backs straight, their heads raised, their feet, all clad in the exact same black patent-leather shoes, all in the third position. None of them stirred.

On the far side of the room, in front of the window, stood the three Mikaelson brothers. Kol, the youngest, was all boyish charm, with dark blonde hair and a mischievous grin. Then there was Klaus – handsome, surely, with his curly hair a little lighter than his younger brother's, the piercing blue eyes; but once again, Katerina felt uneasy at the sight of him. There was something aggressive in his sharp gaze. Next to him stood the oldest of the three. Elijah was the exact opposite of his brothers, both in looks and behaviour. His hair was dark and very neatly cut and underneath the obligatory Mikaelson arrogance, his brown eyes showed softness that his brothers' did not. He looked more comfortable in his suit than Kol and Klaus put together, and his demeanour was almost as stern as his mother's. He stood so very upright Katerina couldn't help wondering whether he'd swallowed a stick.

.

Mrs Mikaelson entered the room, her heels loud on the polished wooden floor.

"Good evening, girls," she called nonchalantly without looking up from her black clipbook.

"Good evening, ma'am," they replied in unison, their voices ringing through the huge room.

"Elijah. Niklaus. Kol," she added, still staring at the clipboard.

"Mother," Elijah gave back curtly, his brothers said nothing.

"All of you know what this is about," Mrs Mikaelson said, coming to a halt in the middle of the room. "Those of you older than fifteen who have danced the best this term will accompany my sons to the mayor's annual prom. I believe it is unnecessary to say that this is a great honour and an even greater responsibility. Now, step forward, please…"

She turned a page on her clipboard and called, still without raising her eyes off the paper:

"Rebekah Mikaelson."

This came as no surprise. Yet still all eyes were on the young blonde girl as she took three measured, graceful steps forward and then stood before her mother, in the exact same position as before.

"Rebekah, you have performed extraordinarily this term. You shall accompany my son Kol."

The silence in the room suddenly felt very heavy. Katerina felt Caroline and Bonnie stiffen next to her, and if it hadn't been so strictly forbidden to talk the room would have been buzzing. Even Rebekah herself looked slightly confused.

This had _never _happened. Rebekah had alwaysaccompanied Elijah.

Kol didn't look entirely happy with the whole arrangement, either; his older brother looked his usual overly-composed self.

Mrs Mikaelson went on with the same blank expression.

"Caroline Forbes."

A panicked little spark lit up in Caroline's eyes. She stepped forward and stood still, clearly not as calm as Rebekah had been under Mrs Mikaelson's sharp eyes.

"Caroline, you too have danced excellently. You shall accompany my son Niklaus."

A faint, wolfish smile played around Klaus's lips. Bonnie and Katerina exchanged a worried glance. _Again? _Bonnie mouthed, Katerina just shrugged.

The atmosphere tensed even more as they waited for the last name. _Annabelle Nguyen, _they had supposed earlier, _or Hayley Marshall._

"Katerina Petrova."

She froze, having quite forgotten how to breathe.

How could it be her? Surely the other girls had been better than her. She hadn't been that good, and anyway she didn't even _want _to go; she had no desire whatsoever to dance with any of the Mikaelsons at the ball.

Her head was spinning. Bonnie gave her a small shove and she staggered forward, lacking all the grace the other two had displayed.

Mrs Mikaelson raised a brow at her, and her voice seemed even cooler than usual when she said:

"Katerina, you too have performed admirably. You shall accompany my son Elijah."

Her head was starting to spin again. She took a deep breath.

"You understand, girls, that you shall represent this school at the dance as much as you shall represent my family. This is a great responsibility for you all and I expect perfect behaviour as well as extraordinary dancing, you are, after all, the best students of a dancing school."

_Breathe in._

"Yes, ma'am," she, Caroline and Rebekah replied in unison.

_Breathe out._ She was fairly sure she was in shock.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Oh. My. God. I can't believe it." Bonnie shook her head and dropped on her bed. "I just _can't _believe it. Both of you, at the mayor's prom, I cannot believe it."

"Yeah, you said that quite a lot."

"Well, I can't believe it!"

Katerina sighed. Bonnie and Caroline had practically dragged her back to the dormitory; she had hardly been able to think straight, leave alone walk straight. Now her head was clear again, she wasn't feeling much better – spending an entire night in a huge ballroom crowded with rich, educated people in the company of Elijah Mikaelson was not exactly a thrilling prospect in her opinion. They had literally _nothing _in common; he was a Mikaelson, rich, educated and powerful, and she was just a girl from a Bulgarian family who could have never afforded this school without her scholarship. Besides, she was seventeen and he somewhere in his mid-twenties_. _

What were they even supposed to _talk _about?

"Me neither," she answered faintly, stretching out on her bed. "Me neither."

She rolled over on the bed, facing the girl on her right that had been suspiciously silent since the ceremony.

"What about you, Caroline?"

The blonde shrugged, and picked up a book from her bedside table. "Well, I tried very hard this term," she answered in a tone that fooled neither of the other two.

"But _Klaus, _and don't forget this is the second time he chose you," Bonnie said in an excited whisper.

"I know that, Bonnie," Caroline gave back irritably.

"There's something wrong with him," Katerina said quietly. "He scares me."

"He scares everyone."

"He was always nice to me," the blonde answered, more to herself than the others. Katerina was starting to think that she should not only worry about herself, and she wanted to find out what had happened on that ball the previous year more than ever. How could it be that Caroline was so fond of him while at the same time looking so scared whenever she set eyes on him?

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Katerina was tired, but she didn't care. She was used to it – this was how it went every single day, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She loved dancing, and by now she felt like she needed this as much as she needed to breathe. Nothing could clear her mind the way ballet could.

"Miss Petrova, raise your foot a little," Miss Fleming called. "More. More. That's it. _Head up, _Miss Young, there is nothing on the ground that needs staring at. Miss Forbes, the position of your hand, what is that supposed to be? Very good, Miss Mikaelson. Alright, and now I'd like to see your turn… Miss Nguyen, do that again, and this time keep straight." She frowned at Anna and sighed.

She clapped her hands. "Miss Nguyen, work on that turn. Miss Marshall, you were poorly stretched, I won't have that again. Dismissed."

Isobel Fleming tucked her thick dark hair behind her ear, pierced them all with a dissatisfied glance and strode out of the room. The moment the door fell shut behind her, the room was filled with chatter.

"Well, then, Katerina. Elijah Mikaelson, huh?" Hayley Marshall gracefully slid to the floor beside her and reached down to her feet.

"Believe me, I'm as shocked as you are," she muttered, beginning to stretch, too.

"I wonder why he chose to take someone else this year," Anna Nguyen quipped in.

Katerina sighed and stared at the wooden floorboards underneath her fingers. Like it always had during the last week, she felt like her heart was stuck in her throat at the thought of the dance that was only another three days ago.

"I'm gonna find out soon enough, I guess," she murmured and rose to her feet. "Care, we're supposed to meet Mrs Mikaelson in two hours about the dresses."

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_***Author's Note*** _These are probably going to get a little long sometimes, feel free to skip if you're not into it.

A few words to the characters – I wanted them to remain as close to their characters on the show as possible. If you find Katherine out of character, you're probably right – I chose the name with a lot of care. I want Katerina Petrova the way she was when she was still human, her personality in the sixteenth century. Don't worry, though, you'll catch a glimpse of good old Katherine Pierce later on :)

Caroline will be explored a little more in later chapters, but I really hope I got her alright – I _love _her to bits and pieces.

I'm, well… not very fond of Bonnie, as you can probably tell. I hope you don't find her too one-dimensional, but she's really just in this because she's part of the main cast on the show ^^

More about the Mikaelsons to come in chapter two.

I'm trying to include as many characters from the show as possible, let's see if you can spot them all ;)


	3. Chapter Two

**Some theme music suggestions:**

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For the ball scene, I had "Bed Of Roses" by Bon Jovi playing - I know it's not even remotely fitting, but in my mind they're always dancing to this song...

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**Chapter Two – September 1950**

The dress was of a deep burgundy red. It had a tightly fitted bodice and a full, stiff skirt that reminded her pleasantly of her dancing tutus; it was made from chiffon and a few other fabrics Katerina couldn't even tell the name of and all in all it was more exquisite and more expensive than anything she'd ever worn in her life. She was almost glad she would have to give it back – she would have been scared to keep something so precious in her wardrobe.

Caroline was already fully prepared and looked like a film star in her silvery blue dress and her artful updo. She had quite a talent for hairdos and such; right now she was busy wrestling Katerina's long curls into something fit for a dance, muttering curses under her breath when they refused to do her bidding.

"Care, you do realise that I don't want to look like a poodle," she joked feebly, anxiously watching her friend's doing in the mirror.

"Oh, _damn,_" Caroline said with biting sarcasm in her voice – clearly she was as nervous as Katerina was. "You should've said that earlier."

"Just give it up, Care. I'll do my dancing hair-"

"Oh no, you won't," Caroline snapped, pulling her hair up into a shape Katerina had never even _thought _of doing her hair. "You are _not _just gonna look like you do every day. You're going to _the _ballof the year, Miss Petrova."

Katerina sighed. "Why do I have the feeling you're scared?"

Her friend didn't reply, just wrenched a few last pins into the hairdo and stepped back. "Tadaa," she said lamely, lacking her usual optimism. She was pale underneath the rouge on her cheeks.

Katerina stared into the mirror, trying to take in how unfamiliarly _elegant _her reflection looked back at her, her curls turned into large waves that flowed over her back with the front part pinned back neatly. Her lips were painted red with Caroline's lipstick. "It's beautiful, Care."

A tentative smile tugged at her friend's lips for a moment. "Thank you. Now get into that dress and come on."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The room was as huge as it was gorgeous – Katerina had never seen such splendour before. Gigantic flower bouquets and garlands hung of the walls and the polished marble floor was a jewel all of its own. The hundreds of lights glittered in the champagne glasses that were carried around by innumerable waiters in tuxedos.

"What year is it again, 1750?" Katerina whispered to Caroline whose smile looked rather unconvincing. "You'd think we were in Buckingham Palace or something."

Klaus, walking on the far left next to Caroline, gave a low chuckle. He looked great, his curls shining like dark gold, and his smoking fit him like a second skin. Only his reckless smile seemed a little misplaced, a smile like that did not belong into a world as disciplined and tidy as this one.

His siblings looked just fit for the whole place. Kol wore perfectly groomed hair and a mischievous grin; his sister floated next to him in an olive green dress, looking like a sulking goddess.

Only Elijah looked surprisingly… normal. He was the only one who didn't look like a dressed-up little boy, probably because he always wore suits and neat hair, even his tie seemed to be a constant part of him. Katerina couldn't help thinking he looked _hot_, though she gave her best not to notice. What she _did _notice, though, was that he looked almost as troubled as she and Caroline, and she couldn't understand why. He belonged in places like this, with his expensive tux, not borrowed like her own clothes, his stiff posture, his place at a fancy law school, his education and his shiny shoes.

Still, he seemed uneasy, especially when two men came walking towards them.

"Mayor Lockwood," Elijah greeted the older of the two. "Mister Lockwood."

"Elijah. Kol. Rebekah. Oh, and the lovely Caroline," the Mayor greeted jovially. "Niklaus," he then added in a much colder tone.

"Mayor," Klaus gave back, looking back at the older man defiantly. "Tyler."

Katerina caught Elijah throwing his brother a warning glance. Tyler Lockwood glowered at the second-oldest Mikaelson, looking rather murderous underneath his handsome features.

"Hello, Rebekah. Caroline, nice to see you again," he said, turning to Caroline with a much friendlier look on his face. Klaus's smile had vanished entirely.

"And who's your lovely company?" the Mayor inquired quickly, turning back to Elijah, clearly trying to distract from the two alpha-wolves fighting for their territory next to them.

"Katerina Petrova," she answered before Elijah had even opened his mouth, tired of being ignored. They lived in the 20th century, damn it; he could talk to _her _if he wanted to know her name.

"From our mother's dancing school," Elijah added, sounding a little sour.

"Well, I hope you'll all enjoy yourselves," the Mayor said and turned away to greet new guests, practically dragging his son along as he went. Katerina watched them go, wondering what the hell all that had been about.

"I'll get us a drink," Kol announced and disappeared in the crowd.

Katerina suddenly felt overwhelmed by the situation. Why had nobody told her what _exactly _was her task tonight?

"Care?" she whispered, turning to her friend for support, but Caroline seemed to be quite occupied with herself. She looked deep in thought and stroked absent-mindedly over the flowing fabric of her skirt.

Rebekah fingered her beautiful silvery-blonde curls, looking around herself in an obviously bad mood. Katerina didn't know her well enough to tell why, truth be told she didn't know her at all, but clearly she disliked _not _being the centre of attention.

A couple of other guests trailed past, greeting the Mikaelsons respectfully. Elijah, as always, made the perfect impression of the family patron, knowing everyone by name, shaking hands and smiling his pleasant, self-assured, aristocratic mask of a smile. Somehow he even found the time to inform Katerina and Caroline briefly about whoever they were talking to. Rebekah gifted the more handsome men with a dazzling smile; Klaus looked sullen and absent-minded and if he did descend to greet someone, it was cold and short-spoken.

"Matthew Donovan, heir to his parents' paper mill up North," Elijah said quietly, while his sister chatted to the young blond man who'd clearly found her approval. Katerina couldn't help noticing how jealously both Elijah and Klaus eyed the two of them. Suddenly she felt slightly sorry for the rich girl for whom she usually held nothing but slight contempt and envy – Rebekah had everything, looks, talent, money, education. But right now, she wondered what it had to be like, growing up with two older brothers like them and, even worse, a mother like Mrs Mikaelson.

"Where's your brother gone to?" she heard Caroline ask in an almost… upbeat tone and Katerina could hardly resist the urge to turn around and stare when she heard Klaus actually _chuckle _and reply cheerily: "Well, I hope he's not inflicted his charms on some poor defenceless girl, because then he'll never return and I could really do with that drink."

Caroline laughed.

Katerina was not the only one who had noticed her friend's small victory; she caught Elijah and Rebekah sharing a surprised glance.

When nothing happened for another few painfully long minutes, Katerina decided to busy herself with admiring the beautiful crystal chandelier that flowed down from the high ceiling towards the floor in a cascade of tiny glass shards. It almost appeared to be in motion, painting millions of colourful little sparks all over the huge room.

"No need to look so nervous," a quiet voice near her ear remarked amusedly, making her jump. "All you'll have to do is dance a little, and I hear that you do extraordinarily. Apart from that, as sad as it is, my mother merely requires you to look gorgeous and I don't see how you could disappoint anyone in that regard."

She frowned and answered reluctantly: "I'll… take that as a compliment."

Elijah smiled. "Why, yes, it was a compliment."

Luckily, Kol returned with delicate champagne flutes filled with sparkling liquid before the situation could get even more awkward. She took one, throwing him a grateful smile.

"Alcohol, thank God," Klaus muttered, taking two glasses and handing one to Caroline with a conspiring smile. "Drink up, you'll need it."

Rebekah, alone again since Matthew Donovan had returned to his dancing partner, cast her brother a sideward glance. "What's got you all cheerful, Nik?" She grabbed Kol's hand and added loftily: "Come on, Mother asked us to dance, we might as well. This ball's boring me already."

Her oldest brother's eyes followed her with a displeased expression and he said, turning to his brother: "Quite right, we can't just stand here all night."

The next moment, Katerina felt herself follow him onto the dance floor, still feeling tense and nervous. Her hand in his felt strange, not exactly unpleasant, but yet she was oddly aware of his touch. She tried to concentrate on the dancing – luckily the band was playing a waltz, so she didn't have much opportunity to make a fool of herself.

"Please, you must ignore my sister. As much as I love her, I guess that when it all comes down, she is a spoiled little princess," he said abruptly, but despite his irritated tone, he couldn't quite hide the fond smile on his lips.

"Your mother doesn't look like the kind of person who spoils people."

"Why, no, she doesn't," he answered, sighing. "But I'm afraid Niklaus and I did a splendid job all by ourselves. I suppose to some extent, it is understandable. She was heartbroken when our oldest brother died…"

"You had an older brother?" she blurted out, regretting it immediately. "Sorry, I didn't want to be nosy-"

"Five years older than me," he cut her off with a mild smile. "His name was Finn, he and his wife were killed during the Blitz."

"I'm sorry," she muttered, avoiding his eye.

"It was a long time ago," he answered very quietly, but she didn't believe his  
indifference for a second. "Anyway, Kol's the only one who's never had a… weak spot for Rebekah. And I…", he cleared his throat and adjusted his smile, "I honestly don't know why I'm boring you with all this, my apologies."

Katerina didn't know any reply that would have been even halfway as eloquent and polite as his always were, so she just didn't say anything – though that was probably even ruder.

The band picked up a quicker tune and she hoped he'd give up the small talk to concentrate on his dancing, but sadly Elijah Mikaelson was far too good a dancer to get confused by a foxtrot.

"So, you've been at my mother's school for how many years, exactly?"

"Since I'm ten, so a little more than seven years," she replied quietly.

"That is a long time," he commented. "Don't you miss your family?"

"I used to miss them a lot when I was younger, especially my Mum. But I'd miss ballet more, I guess. And sometimes I see them during the holidays."

"Your family must be proud of your achievements." Katerina caught herself wondering whether he talked like that to people he was close to, too, and whether it wasn't exhausting to be this… formal all the time. She knew _she _wouldn't have been able to keep it up for longer than five minutes.

"They are, especially Mum. They never really expected me to do well, we're just an immigrant family after all," she answered.

"Your family comes from an Eastern country, I take it."

"My family's from Sofia. We left when Bulgaria entered the war. I was eight, I don't actually remember much. I mean, I remember Sofia a bit and our home and I still speak Bulgarian, but it's all a bit vague."

"Was it difficult learning English, if you don't mind me asking? I imagine it must be, with a mother tongue so different from it. My parents had us learn Russian, and it was hell," he said, still in his pleasant tone.

"You don't have to apologise for every single sentence," she replied, slightly annoyed for some reason. "It was easy enough for me, maybe because I was so young. And English is quite simple, really, the grammar's fairly easy to learn."

Caroline and Klaus passed them by, and when she glanced back at Elijah, she saw a surprised, almost hopeful look on his face.

"What is it with you and your brother?" she asked without thinking. When she realised whatshe had just said, she felt the strong urge to slap herself, but decided it was too late to take it back anyway, so she elaborated: "Whenever he shows the slightest hint of being _happy_, you look like God knows what had happened."

"Is it so surprising that I'd want my brother to be happy?"

_Well, he's not the kind of person you'd wish happiness so much. _Katerina grimaced and tried to put what she was thinking nicely, but there was no way. So she just shook her head.

"It's not, of course it's not. He's your brother."

"You're not a very good liar, Katerina," he said, still watching his brother. "I know what you mean, he's not the most… amiable person in the world. But he has his qualities, believe me. My brother is a very intelligent man and probably the bravest person I've ever met in my life, besides… there was a war raging all over the world a little more than five years ago, so you might want to adapt your idea of a decent person. Everyone in this room older than twenty-two is likely to be a murderer."

Katerina frowned, slightly taken aback. Who would have thought Elijah Mikaelson would be so cynical? "That includes you, Mr Mikaelson."

"It's Elijah, please, unless you'd like me to suffer a nervous breakdown," he said, then his voice turned very quiet and very tense. "And I never did exclude myself. I went to war, too, though I was at the front for less than two weeks. It still is enough to keep me from sleep at night, I fail to imagine what Niklaus must go through."

Her brain was having trouble keeping up with all the information. Suddenly a lot of things made sense – she'd heard of returned soldiers who were aggressive or depressive. Both fit on Niklaus Mikaelson. It also explained why his older brother was so weary around Klaus, watching him like a bomb that might go off any moment – because in a way that was what he was.

Desperate to change the topic – what had she been thinking to bring it up in the first place? – she grasped for the first straw she could find.

"You learned Russian?"

He grimaced, yet when he answered his tone was a little less tense. "Well, it's a far cry from perfect, but more or less acceptable. My French is much better, as is my German. I used to hate the lessons, but now I couldn't be more thankful for them. They spared me most of the war, I was ordered to handle communication with the other nations; apparently they believed I was more adept at talking than fighting."

Katerina couldn't suppress a little laugh – though she didn't doubt that Elijah was physically able to hurt people if he had to, he really did look like someone who would try to talk his way out of _anything. _

"What's so funny?" he demanded, something like a smile on his face, but smaller, less pompous, more…. _real. _

She felt her cheeks flush and she shook her head. "Nothing."

Another dance began and they took a moment to adjust to the new rhythm, which thankfully spared her any more questions.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

About an hour later, they were standing near the huge staircase leading up to the gallery and the private rooms of the Lockwoods. The champagne was starting to make her feel slightly dizzy. Klaus and Caroline stood a few feet away. A faint glow had appeared on Caroline's cheeks and Katerina was astonished to see how quickly her friend's anxiousness had disappeared. She couldn't help thinking that Caroline, too, seemed to fit into this place more and more.

Katerina had started a tentative chat with Rebekah Mikaelson, discussing their upcoming performance of Tchaikovsky's _Swan Lake, _when suddenly the chatter in the ball room broke off for a moment and several heads turned towards the gallery.

Tyler Lockwood had appeared on the landing, looking rather dishevelled. He was clearly drunk, but he made his way down the stairs towards Klaus and Caroline admirably quickly.

"Wait here. Trust me, the clearer you stay of the two of them, the better," Elijah muttered, looking worried, and hurried to his brother's side where he whispered intently into his ear. Caroline joined Katerina.

"Care, what's going on?"

Caroline glanced from Elijah and Klaus to Tyler and back to Katerina, then seemed to make a decision and replied quietly: "Look, last year there was a dreadful accident and the Mayor's wife-"

"What do you mean, an accident?" Katerina interrupted, frowning.

Caroline sighed, throwing yet another glance towards the Mikaelson brothers. Katerina followed her look to see that Tyler Lockwood had reached them.

"That you even dare to turn up here-" Tyler growled, starting towards Klaus.

"Tyler please, whatever business it is that you have with my brother-" Elijah began, slowly stepping in front of his younger brother.

"You know exactly what," Lockwood hissed, scowling at Elijah instead.

Katerina couldn't help admiring the eldest Mikaelson – he didn't even flinch, just went on in his calm tone: "Again, please, be civil, you know the importance this dance has for your father."

"I don't _care _about my father," Lockwood snarled, taking another step towards them. "There's another thing we have in common, isn't that right, Elijah?"

Caroline watched them, then very quietly started to talk without taking her eyes off them.

"Carol – Carol Lockwood had some kind of argument with Klaus in her husband's study, I honestly don't know what it was about. I told Elijah he'd been gone for ages and we went looking for him. We got to the study the exact moment Tyler did. When we got inside, Carol was dead. She must have tripped over the carpet, anyway, she hit her head on the edge of the desk and apparently, she cracked her skull and then she was dead, just like that." Caroline looked shaken even by the memory. "Klaus looked a mess, he was white as a sheet and shaking like mad, he didn't even seem to hear us. And Tyler, he just lost it, he went for Klaus, yelling he'd pushed her and that is was his fault." Caroline drew a shuddering breath. "It was awful, I really thought Tyler was going to kill him and Klaus – I don't think he had any idea where he even was, he was looking right through him. I don't know what would've happened if Elijah hadn't stepped between them…"

"_Did_ Klaus have something to do with it?"

The blonde stroked a stray curl behind her ear, her blue eyes oddly wide. "No. Of course not."

_He had something to do with it, _Katerina thought, wondering why she wasn't even surprised. The only thing that shocked her was that Caroline – who had never kept a secret in her life – was lying for him.

"I can't believe you never told me that," Katerina hissed, staring at her friend in disbelief. "I thought we were friends, the times we've asked you what the hell happened last year and you never said a word-"

"Elijah made me swear I wouldn't say anything, I'm sorry, Kat. But I promised."

"Why would he make you promise that if Klaus had nothing to do with it?" Katerina asked angrily, glancing at the Mikaelson brothers that were arguing with Tyler Lockwood – that was to say, Tyler was seconds away from starting towards Klaus who stared back stonily and didn't say a word. Elijah stood between them, trying to reason with the Mayor's son, not very successfully so by the looks of it.

She felt a sudden rush of disappointment. She'd _believed_ him, damn it, his whole act of morality. And all the while, he'd been covering up a murder.

"Because everyone would _want _to believe that he had something to do with it," Caroline answered, her eyes shimmering with tears. "It's the sort of thing you'd expect of him, and it wasn't his fault. It wasn't, Kat, believe me, if you'd just seen him – even if he _did _push her, he had no idea what he was doing."

Katerina just shook her head at her friend and turned away in time to see Tyler Lockwood aiming a punch at Klaus. Elijah tried to stop him but was too slow; Klaus, however, caught his fist and gave it a quick, brutal turn that might have dislocated his shoulder. Lockwood groaned in pain, but managed to wrench his hand free from the older man's grip and lunged himself at him again. He wasn't half as good a fighter as Klaus was, but he was strong and fairly fast. His fist made contact with Klaus's jaw. The next second, Elijah was by his side, pulling Tyler away from his little brother.

Katerina couldn't believe the other guests were just standing by, even Kol didn't move. Rebekah, however, jerked her arm free from her little brother's grip and hurried over to Klaus and Elijah, looking angry and scared.

"Stop it, for Heaven's sake, what are you doing?" she yelled, pulling Klaus backwards, away from Tyler who was still trying to wriggle free from Elijah's grip.

"Where's the mayor?" Katerina whispered hotly, looking around them. "Why's nobody doing anything?"

Caroline gave a helpless shrug, eying the scene in front of them.

"The Lockwood's rooms are upstairs?" Katerina demanded and Caroline nodded.

"Kat, guests aren't allowed up there-" she said, but Katerina was already running up the staircase, holding up her skirt so she wouldn't trip over it – though she was fairly sure she'd fall flat on her face before she'd reached the top of the stairs anyway. She wanted her dancing shoes back more than ever.

She hammered against the first door she found, when no response came, she turned to the next until finally, the Mayor opened, his hair looked ruffled and there was burgundy lipstick smeared across his jaw. Katerina didn't really need the sight of the halfway undressed woman sitting on the desk to understand what was going on. He stared at her in disbelief, visibly torn between his confusion that she was there in the first place and the embarrassment that she'd caught him in the act.

"Ah, Miss, er… you're Mr Mikaelson's dancing partner, right?"

Katerina tried to catch her breath and answered in a tone that couldn't be called anything other than rude:

"Yes, I am; there's a problem with your son and you have to come down _right now."_

"A… a problem with my son?" the Mayor stuttered, staring at her.

"Yes! We need your help. Tyler's having a row with Niklaus Mikaelson," she informed him and stormed back down the stairs.

"Tyler, what is going on here?" he boomed, and half the room flinched. Elijah looked up at Katerina, something like surprise in his eyes.

She returned to Caroline and watched as the Mayor approached the little group. Elijah cautiously let go of the Mayor's son while Rebekah dragged her brother back another few feet to put some more distance between them. The Mayor started talking to both of them, but it was Elijah who answered while his brother stood by motionlessly.

Caroline sighed. "Thank you, Kat."

"I didn't do it for you, Caroline," she answered coolly, watching the Mikaelsons, especially Kol. He just stood by, so far away that he couldn't possibly be seen as a part of this family. She had the strong impression that he wanted nothing to do with his three older siblings.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Well, I am sorry you had to witness this. I'm afraid things like that have the tendency to follow in my brother's wake."

"Yes, I heard," she gave back, a little shocked at how cold her voice was.

"I'm sorry?" he replied smoothly, handing her another glass of champagne.

"Caroline couldn't really keep her little secret from me anymore given the situation."

"Ah," he muttered, a small, regretful smile on his lips. "The demise of Carol Lockwood. A tragic loss, she was a wonderful woman."

"Yes, you sound very touched indeed."

"I am. I liked her," he answered quietly. "But you have to believe me, her death was a dreadful accident."

"So if it was an accident, why did Caroline have to keep her mouth shut?" she demanded, clutching her glass. "Though I'm impressed that you _could _shut her up."

He chuckled. "And I am impressed that she didn't tell anyone. I must admit I expected she would." Elijah sighed and emptied his own glass.

"You must not judge my brother, Katerina – he has seen horrors that you could not even begin to imagine. He was there when the Allies landed in Normandy; he fought countless battles in those two years." He looked at her and seemed to understand that she wasn't convinced.

"I… I remember how I prayed and bargained and begged for him to survive and come back, and sometimes I wonder if this isn't some cruel joke of the universe. Something became of my brother, something terrible, and every once in a while I'm not sure whether he really can still be saved. But what sort of brother would I be if I turned my back on him when he needs me most?" His voice had gone very quiet; she could hardly understand what he was saying.

There was some deep, raw emotion in his eyes, one that she couldn't quite place. Love maybe, or sadness. Hope. Desperation. She couldn't tell.

Then he forced a smile on his lips, one that didn't look very real to her.

"Well, I must not lose hope," he replied in a more upbeat tone. "After all, I might be the only one who hasn't given up on him yet."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Katerina muttered, glancing at Caroline who was dancing again, an ever so slight smile on her face. Klaus was talking to her, and his eyes looked more alive and warm than she had ever thought possible.

Elijah sighed. "In that case, I hope Miss Forbes knows what she is getting herself into."

Katerina shook her head. "Why do you believe him to be deserving of so much forgiveness? Even though you think he is such a danger to the rest of the world."

"Oh, he's a danger to me as well," he answered calmly. "But no matter what happens, no matter what he does – he will always be my brother."

She nodded slowly, trying to make sense of the man in front of her.

"Even if he kills people," she whispered.

He pierced her with a solemn look, then bowed his head slightly. "No matter what he does. There is nothing I value higher than my family."

"Your morals are a little twisted," she remarked, smiling against her will.

Elijah raised a brow at her reaction. "Yes, I suppose they are. Would you do me the honour of another dance or shall I let you be?"

"No. I have no idea what I should do, standing around here all alone," she replied.

He almost returned her smile.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Where the ballroom had been splendid and pompous, the garden outside was quiet and of a more subtle beauty. The hedges were neatly trimmed and there were roses of all sorts of colours. There were hundreds of little lanterns scattered across the garden.

The stars gleamed like tiny pearls scattered on black velvet and the moon was nothing but a thin white line on the horizon.

She was freezing in her dress, but she didn't actually care. It was beautiful.

"You know, I think I'm actually glad to be here," she said quietly. "It's...it's an honour."

He just smiled. "The honour's all mine, Miss Petrova."

Katerina felt herself blush, a shade of burgundy matching her dress going by the heat level. She stared at the gravel underneath her shoes and tried to hide her smile.

* * *

_***Author's Note* **_

Early update because I don't have much access to the internet next week.

So… a lot of information. Not too much, I hope… Heavy focus on the relationship of Elijah and Klaus. What can I say, I watched a few episodes of The Originals and was more and more intrigued by their fantastic dynamics. It took me a long time to figure out how I could make this relationship work in an All-Human AU, and actually I chose the whole epoch because that way I could give Klaus PTSD.

I hope you enjoyed the interaction between Elijah and Katerina, I put a lot of effort in writing their scenes. Hope it doesn't seem rushed to you, but they _did _have instant chemistry from what we know from the show, so I didn't want that much build-up there.

Oh, and then there's Tyler – please let me have your opinion on Tyler! I'm really insecure about writing him, but I think he turned out okay. More or less.

I put a lot of thought into the dresses, people – Katerina wore a burgundy dress when she met Elijah, Caroline's dress is obviously from the Original's ball and Rebekah wore a gorgeous green dress at that ball that I loved to bits and pieces.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three – September 1950**

Katerina woke with the strangest of feelings and a dream she couldn't quite remember. The dormitory was still dark, the sun had not yet risen. The alarm clock on her drawer read four fifteen, meaning she'd had little more than an hour of sleep.

The champagne was starting to give her a headache, but that was not what had woken her. She was shivering with cold and the sheets clung to her skin.

Katerina sighed and stared at the ceiling in the dark, pondering her dream that was slipping away from her and becoming clearer and blurrier and clearer again… There had been Carol Lockwood, Elijah had pointed her out to Katerina on a framed photograph in the Lockwood's mansion. She had watched her die… had watched Klaus and her fight, about the death of Finn Mikaelson, about a battle in France and an English interpreter...

Carol had pushed Klaus twice… and suddenly something in him had seemed to snap. He'd grabbed the Mayor's wife at both shoulders, his eyes a little glassy, and slammed her backwards on the oak desk. Lacking a better word, she would say he'd looked – terrified. An ugly, loud crack had filled the room, then the door had opened and Caroline, Tyler and Elijah had burst in the moment Carol Lockwood's limb body slid to the floor.

Katerina shuddered. Suddenly the images were back, sharp and clear and real as a memory, and her blood ran cold at how vivid they were. She could feel the draft from the door and the polished wood of the desk, taste the thick musty air in the study, hear Klaus's shallow, irregular breathing and the dreadful sound of Mrs Lockwood's head cracking open. She couldn't for the life of her say whether or not her dream had gone on from there, but the moment of Carol Lockwood's death was just as present to her as the dark dormitory and Caroline's and Bonnie's quiet breathing, even though she knew it was nothing but a product of her all too vivid imagination.

Shivering, she pulled the sheets closer around her and before she knew it, she'd gone back to sleep.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

When her alarm clock finally disrupted the darkness at five thirty sharp, she was feeling slightly dizzy and completely exhausted, but at the same time she was… happy, a strangely detached, sentimental kind of happiness and she just couldn't explain where that was coming from. She remembered some creepy dream she'd had during the night, but couldn't recall what it had been about.

Bonnie started firing questions at her and Caroline in turn before they'd even got out of bed, but none of them was in the mood to answer. They dressed and went down to breakfast in silence where Katerina's mind returned more than once to where the burgundy dress still hung in their wardrobe. Her friend, too, looked absent-minded, but there was an ever so slight smile on her face that Katerina could only guess was mirroring on her own.

"Seriously though, Kat," Bonnie said, snatching the coffee before Katerina could reach it. "I won't have all that silence like last year. Come on, how was it?"

"May I have the coffee, please?" Katerina asked in a strained voice.

"Not until you answer my question."

"Bonnie Bennettt, I've slept for roughly two hours, keeping the caffeine from me is nothing but blackmail," she gave back, motioning for the coffee pot.

"Not my fault that you came back at three in the morning." Bonnie pierced both of them with a sharp gaze. "Tell me. Come on, girls, tell me _something._"

"It was nice," Katerina gave back flatly. "Coffee, Bon. _Now._"

"Hilarious," she replied and handed the coffee pot over. "Details?"

"Well, it _was _nice," Caroline answered in a pained voice. "We danced, we had champagne, we… um, we met the Mayor."

Katerina threw her a look and she grinned back at her.

"That's _all _you have to say to that?"

"Yes, Bonnie. We're not all as talkative as you are, especially not with a severe lack of sleep."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

She got through the next weeks in a blur of training, lessons and conversations that she couldn't remember minutes after she'd had them. Her mind kept wandering off; even dancing couldn't quite ground her, though she got to stand in the first row in all of her scenes.

Mrs Mikaelson had given the role of Odette to Rebekah and had asked Caroline to dance Odile – well, in their world that meant she would be dancing Odile, because no girl at the Mikaelson Ballet School refused a role that was offered to her, least of all a lead role.

Katerina couldn't stop shaking her head at the thought – who in the name of Heaven would make _Caroline, _innocent, sweet, wonderful Caroline, dance the black swan? Sure, she did look like a beautiful, terrible archangel in the black costume, and Rebekah seemed to positively glow in the white one.

But still, she couldn't help wondering whether that wasn't some kind of bad omen.

* * *

"What is that, mother?" He waved the stiff white card. "We were _never _invited."

"This is your sister's first big role," his mother gave back without looking up from her needlework.

"No, it's not. She's had one last term and the one before. She wouldn't stop talking about it all for _weeks _and kept complaining we hadn't been there, and you said we wouldn't have appreciated it anyway."

"You wouldn't have."

"Oh, and now all of sudden we would?" It was absurd. He knew _he _was acting absurd, but if his mother changed her behaviour, he knew he had better find out what she was plotting. Esther Mikaelson did nothing without a reason. And somehow, those reasons tended to end badly either for Niklaus or himself.

"Well, I should expect you were all old enough to behave at a ballet performance now."

"So this is about Kol?" he gave back, brows raised, and in his mind added a _we both know it isn't. _

"Elijah, had I known you would throw such a tantrum I would have never invited any of you in the first place. I just thought you would all enjoy seeing your sister dance-"

_Kol wouldn't-_

"and besides, Kol told me you and Niklaus were both quite smitten with your dancing partners-"

_Why, thanks a lot, brother dearest-_

"I believed it would be nice, being there to watch Rebekah. Together."

_Without Finn, Sage and our abusive father, you mean, and your third-oldest sitting at the far end of the room so you wouldn't have to see him-_

"As a family."

_As if we had been a family for the last nine years, mother._

"Of course. I for my part would love to see her dance, I was merely under the impression that you didn't want us there."

His mother threw him a scandalised look and said, her voice shaking slightly:

"How could I not want my sons to be by my side when I present the results of my work to the public?"

For a moment he could have sworn he'd seen tears of disappointment shimmer in her eyes, and he almost believed her.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

As October drew closer, he thought of her, from time to time. She'd be there, so he would see her, too, would he not?

He spent the workdays at the university in London and returned home on Friday where his sweet little sister would come outside and hug him on the stairs as if he'd been gone for months. And that would always remain the best part of his weekend stays, since things tended to go downhill from there on. There was Niklaus, either gone out or locked in his room; his mother, bossing everyone around, full of reproachful looks and accusing little side remarks and the house with all the empty rooms.

His mother and Rebekah soon had no other topic than their upcoming performance.

Caroline Forbes would dance Odile – Odile of all the roles, what was his mother thinking? – and Elijah knew that was the only reason Niklaus had agreed to come in the first place. When Elijah was "smitten" with Katerina, as his mother had so despicably put it, then his brother was completely infatuated with Caroline. He didn't tell Elijah, he didn't tell anyone – he didn't actually _talk _to anyone, to be precise; but Elijah knew it anyway. He caught his absent looks, different from the blank stares that Niklaus had brought home from war.

No, when he thought of Caroline there was life in his blue eyes and the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips.

It was next to nothing, and yet it was more than Elijah had dared to hope for since the tragedy at the Lockwood's.

October came and he thought of her, a little more every day. It made him smile, remembering her insolent questions and her tentative smiles, her excellent dancing. And God knew he could do with a happy thought every now and then.

He didn't tell anyone about it, but he caught Niklaus's understanding smirk one Sunday morning across the breakfast table and he wondered whether he'd gained an accomplice in all this mess.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Go and pick up your sister from school, Elijah, would you?"

Esther wore an exquisite woollen dress and a long pearl necklace. Her wedding band glistened in the lamplight and Elijah felt the familiar jolt of frustration at the sight of it. His father had died almost five years ago, yet she refused to take the ring off.

"What, from school?" he inquired irritably and glanced down at his half-finished essay. "It is less than a mile, she could just _walk._"

His mother threw him an appalled look. "You would have your little sister walk through the forest in the dark all on her own?"

_What do you think could happen to her on our own property? Werewolves? _he thought bitterly and slammed his book shut with a small sigh.

"I would never let any harm come upon Rebekah, mother, you know that."

She ignored both his reply and his irritable tone. "The Fells are coming for dinner at seven; I want Rebekah to be here in time. I don't suppose I can expect Niklaus to come-"

"And I don't suppose you would want him there anyway," he cut her off very quietly. "I'll take the car, then."

"Will you join us at the table, Elijah?"

He didn't turn back around so she wouldn't see how angry he was – he couldn't _believe _she had not even tried to deny she couldn't care less about her third-eldest being constantly absent.

"I think I'd better finish my essay," he replied stiffly and left the library.

The black Bentley had been his father's pride and joy, but Elijah didn't have all that much affection to spare for it. He was not a fan of cars to begin with, and especially not this one. Where his father had seemed to have driven it smoothly from the first second, he had struggled to drive the cursed thing for over three months before he had considered it save enough to take his family along. Even the short distance from their home to the school was a nuisance – Elijah wished he could have walked, but then Rebekah wouldn't make it in time for the dinner.

The school was situated in an old manor. On first glance, it was a splendid sight, but the building was old and had been empty for a long time before his father had bought it. There was white paint peeling off the window frames, the ivy had done some serious damage to the façade and chips of stone had broken off from the stairs. Some of the outdated windows didn't keep out the draft anymore and due to the old electricity, the power regularly went off. The good thing about his mother's school certainly was not the comfort of the students – it was the dancing. Most of the money was spent on the teachers' wages.

Elijah sighed, put his hands down his coat pockets and stepped through the tall door, once again feeling slightly relieved the school was reserved for girls – he wouldn't have liked to spend his childhood here.

The entrance hall was deserted and Elijah's heart sank. He'd hoped his sister would wait for him here. When he walked down the corridor, feeling a little lost, a group of younger students passed him by, whispering to each other and staring after him. Men in general were not exactly a common sight at the school. He continued down the long passage, staring at the black and white tiles on the floor and trying to remember the way to the dormitories. Within minutes, he was completely lost.

"Elijah?"

He stopped when he heard the familiar voice and felt a relieved smile creep on his lips when he spotted Caroline at the far end of the corridor.

"Miss Forbes, thank God. I was starting to think I'd never get out of here again."

"It's Caroline." The blonde grinned. "There's only the kitchen down there. Guess that's not where you wanted to go."

"Well, no, it really wasn't. I'm looking for my sister," he replied with an apologetic smile. "You wouldn't happen to know where she is?"

"Probably in her dorm," Caroline answered with a shrug. "I'll take you."

"Thank you." He followed the young woman, thinking it was odd how different she looked. But then again, he'd only seen her four times so far – twice at the reunion for the dance, twice at the Lockwood's dance itself. At the reunion, she'd worn the festive version of her school uniform – basically the same as the everyday one, only with a stiffer skirt and a tie. He supposed it was the hair, he hadn't seen her in that trademark ballerina bun before. _Niklaus would hate the hairdo, _he thought fleetingly, then wondered where that ridiculous thought had come from.

"So, a lot of training for the performance, I would imagine," he said conversationally, just to fill the silence.

"Yes, of course. Extra lessons with your mother and your sister, and the guy who'll dance Siegfried, I keep forgetting his name," Caroline replied with a chuckle. "It's weird, right? I mean I'm supposed to _seduce _him, and I just can't keep his name."

He smiled. "Well, you don't actually have to seduce him, so in the end, it won't matter."

"Oh, I know that. I'm glad I don't _actually _have to seduce him." She rolled her eyes and pushed a door open. "He's boring. I mean, he's a brilliant dancer, flawless, but well… you can't talk to him for longer than two minutes without going completely insane."

The comment made him laugh – however he couldn't help worrying about the intelligent blonde. She had been able to converse with his brother for far more than two minutes, after all, and as happy as he was for him to have someone, _anyone_, who genuinely liked him, Niklaus was a danger.

And Elijah was starting to like Caroline.

"Odile is a great role. You got very lucky."

"Oh, come one," she replied with a little scoff, "we both know Rebekah would have been much more convincing." Suddenly she paled and added hastily: "That… that doesn't mean that Rebekah's evil or anything, I just meant that… well, I'm not a good actress and…"

"I wondered about that too," he cut her off to keep her from apologising even more. "But I don't see why my mother would give out the roles the way she has if not to challenge you. There is nothing more important to her than her performances. She would never try something if she wasn't perfectly certain it would all work out."

Caroline gave a small sigh and opened another door. "You're probably right. Maybe it's just nerves, I've never been in anything this big before."

"Mother thinks highly of you, therefore you can't be anything but excellent."

She shook her head, smiling, but didn't reply and led him up a staircase. They arrived in a vast room lined with desks where the girls sat doing their homework or chatting to each other. He tried to make out his sister but couldn't find her anywhere.

"April, you seen Rebekah?" Caroline asked, turning to a petite dark-haired girl. From what he could glimpse she was busy doing maths.

"In the bedroom," she answered slowly and added with a glance towards Elijah: "She said she had to be home at eight."

"Seven," he answered, offering her a little smile. "The dinner's at seven."

"I'll go get her," Caroline said and disappeared through another door.

The dark-haired quickly returned to her graphs. He felt oddly alone, standing there by the door with all the girls avoiding his eyes. They probably thought he was some kind of spy for his mother.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

He froze for a moment, then turned around slowly, supressing a smile. He couldn't for the life of him let her see that he was glad to meet her; he didn't know why, he just couldn't.

"A very good evening to you, too, Katerina."

She rolled her eyes, visibly annoyed by his chastising, and he fought down another smile.

"I'm to pick up Rebekah, but apparently, she's forgotten all about me."

"Oh, really? Poor you," she gave back with a faint smirk and only a tad of sarcasm in her voice.

"Oh, it's really not the first time," he replied. "I daresay I'm more of a nanny to my siblings than a brother."

She laughed and pushed a stray curl out of her eyes that had escaped the tight bun.

"Well, I must be keeping you from your homework," he said with a faint grin. "How rude of me."

Katerina groaned and leaned back against the wall. "Oh God, don't remind me. You are so lucky to be over it all."

"By no means, I have a twenty page-long essay to write until Monday."

She grinned. "And here I am, complaining about five pages for English class."

"University did quite humble me, too, yes. You don't seem to enjoy your lessons very much."

"There's no point in maths and physics, history is boring, biology doesn't interest me at all and don't get me started on English."

"Why not? I always liked it."

"I hate reading," she replied with a shrug and a defiant smile. "I'm here for the dancing, really."

"Perhaps you're looking into the wrong topics," he said softly. "I admit there is little of interest in a school book."

She scoffed and answered: "I don't think there is a book I would enjoy."

"I could find one." He didn't know what made him say that, he felt reckless even as he did, and he just couldn't get that smile off his face.

A spark lit up in her chocolate-coloured eyes. She crossed her arms and shot back: "What are we betting?"

That made him laugh. He shook his head at the young girl; suddenly realising he'd mirrored her position. "Make an offer."

Well, now he was feeling _really _reckless.

"A bar of chocolate," came the immediate response, served with a challenging smile.

_A small price, _he thought, but then he started wondering whether Katerina had ever had much access to such a luxury item – her family did not seem to have money for such things.

"Fine. But whatever I pick, you'll have to read it all the way through."

"Less than a thousand pages," she bargained.

"Good."

She held his gaze for a moment – a moment too long, perhaps. "Deal. But I assure you, you won't find anything."

"Finding a book for such an intelligent young woman is not that much of a problem," he said with a small smile and she laughed, even blushed a little.

"All those compliments, did you take _lessons_ when you were a kid?"

"Not exactly lessons," he replied with a shrug and a small smile. "But you have to remember that I wasn't born into a world of war. Other ideals, people weren't quite so pragmatic and outspoken."

"_Born into a world of war,_" she repeated with a sardonic touch to her voice. "You really do read a lot, don't you?"

"If the alternative was spending time with my parents, you would take to reading, too," he answered without thinking. A second later, he was downright shocked about what he had just said. Something about this girl made him dangerously careless.

"She doesn't seem –"

"Sorry, Elijah," came a voice from behind him. He flinched for no actual reason and spun around. Rebekah stood behind him, Caroline a few feet behind her. "I really thought the dinner would start at eight, I-"

"It's fine, Bekah," he muttered and threw her a smile that felt slightly strange on his lips. "Come on, Mother'll be upset if you're late." He threw a look over his shoulder at the blond girl. "Thanks a lot for your help, Caroline. Katerina," he added, hesitating a little to look her in the eyes. For a reason he couldn't quite fathom, he even felt a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Goodbye," she said quietly, glancing down at her shoes, too.

"Good luck for your performance," he added, feeling like he should say something else.

"Thanks," Caroline replied with a grin, Katerina just smiled for a moment but said nothing.

He put a hand on his little sister's shoulder and directed her out of the dormitory; from there on she had to lead the way – he would never understand the architecture of this goddamned school.

On the short drive back, Rebekah chattered on and on about how she'd mistaken the time and how she didn't want to go to that dinner anyway, but he couldn't quite bring himself to listen. His mind was on their private library and all those books he'd read during the years.

Their mother greeted them on the steps with a disgruntled look on her beautiful face. "You don't really mean to attend dinner with _that _hairdo, Rebekah dear, do you?"

She said things like that countless times every day. The only thing remarkable was that for the first time, he didn't feel the urge to scream.

* * *

_***Author's Note* **_First of all, thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews! To those who asked for more Klaroline - there will be some in the later chapters, however they are supporting characters and therefore the main focus lies on Katarina and Elijah.

I am doing my very best to do everything as historically accurate as I could. I am very interested in history, but I'm by no means an expert and at school we only learned about my country's view of the war.

I did my research – okay, yes, on Wikipedia, but I did – and Bentley had a new model that came out early in 1946, so Mikael would have been proud of it. Brand new model and probably bloody expensive. I'm not so sure about how much driving routine a young upper-class man would have in the early 1950's, but since Elijah grew up on the countryside and spent almost two years at war, I guess if he doesn't have all that much experience it's not completely illogical.

The story behind the swan lake-thing in the really, _really _abridged version: there's Odette who was turned into a swan by an evil wizard and Siegfried, a prince who falls in love with her. The wizard sends Odile (in some versions she's his daughter, in some she is Odette's evil twin) to seduce Siegfried. There are various endings, in some Siegfried, Odette and the wizard all die, in some the two lovers live happily ever after, in some Siegfried dies and Odette remains a swan.  
Usually, Odette and Odile are danced by the same dancer, but as Mrs Mikaelson's students are not of age, she would probably consider that a little too exhausting or as putting too much pressure on just one of her girls. Plus, Rebekah and Caroline look pretty much alike, so from a little distance they might pass off as twins anyway ;)

By now you might have noticed I'm not painting the nicest possible image of Kol – sorry if you like him, but I did need a few "mean" characters – elsewise I'd only have Mikael and he died four years prior to the beginning of the story so he's not much use in that department…

Please be so kind and write a little review!


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four – October 1950**

"And five, six, seven, eight," came Mrs Mikaelson's relentless voice and Katerina groaned internally. Her arms ached, her feet hurt, she had a headache and her legs were burning.

"_Katerina,_" Mrs Mikaelson called. "Raise your arm!"

She clenched her teeth and lifted her right arm, every muscle stinging.

"And you're supposed to smile, girls," the headmistress barked as the piano player stopped the music. "We'll do that again."

Katerina shared a pained glance with Bonnie and gave April Young, who was looking downright distraught, an encouraging pat on the shoulder. They were training for over two hours now.

"Five, six, seven, eight-"

Less than a minute later, Mrs Mikaelson broke off again.

"Ladies, you are supposed to be dancing in perfect synchrony. Is this what you call synchrony?"

Katerina felt about ready to collapse on the floor, April looked like she was about to cry and even ever-fighting stubborn Hayley Marshall seemed prepared to give up.

"One more time."

Sometimes she wondered whether Mrs Mikaelson made them angry on purpose, just to keep them going.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

When Mrs Mikaelson finally let them go, Katerina seriously started wondering whether she even had the strength to climb the stair to the first floor where they were sleeping. They got ready for bed without a word, too tired even for the slightest hint of communication.

Caroline was already asleep when she and Bonnie finally entered the bedroom. She'd had training with Rebekah, the prince's and the wizard's dancers with their second ballet teacher Miranda Sommers. With the performance less than two weeks away, the lead dancers were spending almost every waking moment dancing – Caroline and Rebekah had even been freed of a few lessons and all their homework for it.

Katerina crawled underneath the sheets, feeling as if there was lead in her feet and hands – and almost jumped out of bed again when her head hit something solid instead of the welcome softness of the pillow.

"Kat, what are you doing?" whispered Bonnie, but Katerina's fingers had already found the object that had given her such a fright and she smiled against her will.

"Nothing," she replied equally quiet, groping for her torch in her bedside drawer, her other hand still firmly closed around the canvas of the cover.

In the dim light of her cheap torch, the book looked even more battered and faded than it probably was, and she almost laughed when she read the title. She would have certainly never chosen _this one._

But well, she had promised to give it a try.

"Put that light out," Bonnie hissed, pulling her pillow over her head. Katerina chuckled and switched off the torch.

The book was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes the next morning, and despite the prospect of double maths with John Gilbert, arguably the most remorseless teacher she'd ever had, followed by another long training, her spirit lifted.

_The most enthralling book I could find – to make sure you would not put it down halfway through._

Katerina couldn't help rolling her eyes at the note that stuck between the pages. He really always _had_ to have the last word, did he not?

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Despite her long days and the heap of homework and lessons and training, despite her nights being short as it was – Katerina started reading. Because she had made a promise. And because she was proud – the next time she met Elijah Mikaelson, she would have read enough of that book to make an impression, and if she had to sacrifice all her sleep to it.

Or at least that was her reason to start the book.

But, by the time she'd reached the fourth chapter, Katerina couldn't deny she was somehow _enjoying _reading it. This was a new experience for her and anyway she hated to admit it, because it meant that he had won; that he had outsmarted her.

It wasn't about the lost bet, not really – it was just that she hated to see his schoolmasterly behaviour justified.

Besides, now she was facing a practical problem: where the hell was she going to get chocolate?

"Since when do you _read, _Kat?" Caroline demanded, frowning down at Katerina.

"This might shock you, Care, but I actually _can _read," she gave back without looking up.

"Yes, but you never do." Caroline bent down to pick something off the floor. She'd unfolded the note before Katerina had realised what it was -

"Well, well, that would explain it," she muttered with a smirk.

Katerina froze, then put the book down and sat up straight. "What would explain what?"

"Oh, I just mean that, you know, for Elijah Mikaelson you might even read a book."

Sighing internally, Katerina looked at her. She shouldn't feel compelled to threaten Caroline; after all, she had been her best friend for years now. But she _couldn't_ let anyone know about her feelings – because if someone knew, that would make them real. And she didn't know if she could deal with that.

"And you really think I'd believe that you would take walks all by yourself in your free time, Care?"

Caroline stared at her for a moment, then blushed furiously and finally, a smile fought on her lips. "Never said I didn't have my own secrets. I'm just curious. Why a book?"

Chuckling, Katerina dropped back on her bed and shrugged; glad the tension between them was gone. "It's a bet. Told him I hated reading, and he said he'd find me a book I'd like."

Caroline picked up the book, giggling, too. "…interesting choice."

"I know, right? But it's actually not half bad."

"Looks like you lost your bet, then."

"Yes, looks like it. Do I want to know what you do on these walks, Care?"

Caroline raised a brow at her and replied smoothly: "Talking, Kat. I'm a good girl."

"Talking. Right, of course." Katerina shook her head, still chuckling. "You and Klaus Mikaelson disappear to the forest every odd week to _talk._"

"It's true. Honestly." She didn't believe her for a second. "And, as much as that might surprise _you, _he's a really… interesting man. He knows an awful lot and, well, the things he's seen-"

"I heard, yes…" Katerina sighed and looked up at her friend. "Listen, Care, you be- you be careful, alright? I know you like him, and I know his brother is hell-bent on believing that he is a good man but, he- there's something wrong with him."

"He's been to war, Kat. It's haunting him. He's traumatised and jumpy and a little paranoid. That doesn't make him a bad man."

"I know that," she interrupted. "But you know what happened to Carol Lockwood; and I honestly doubt that Mrs Mikaelson's husband dropped dead on his own accord less than a year after his son returned home."

Caroline looked at her with a pained smile. "Kat-"

"All I'm saying is: be careful."

She looked at her with her big cornflower eyes, then answered: "You know me. I'm always careful."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The day of the performance came sooner than any of them would have liked.

"Oh God. I won't make it. I'll ruin everything," Caroline whispered, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. Her black tutu was still open at the back, her shoes weren't tied and the mask she was supposed to be wearing was still lying next to her on the chair.

"Rubbish, of course you won't," Bonnie replied cheerfully while she helped Katerina with her costume. "You'll be brilliant."

"I'll trip over my own feet and fall flat on my face and everyone will laugh at me," Caroline insisted faintly.

"Nonsense, no one's going to laugh," came a voice from behind them. Rebekah looked gorgeous, her hair braided and pinned up; a beautiful silver mask glittering over her eyes. But her face was as pale as her costume and when she bent down to tie her shoes, Katerina saw her fingers shaking.

"Nobody will laugh at you, Caroline, because I will do something far worse before you have any opportunity to mess up."

"Oh for Heaven's sake," snapped Hayley who was fumbling with her shoes, too. "You are the best dancers of this goddamned school and if anyone screws it up then it won't be either of you."

"Please stop fighting," April Young said faintly. "We're _all_ nervous."

Rebekah looked at the younger girl and sighed. "You're probably right. We'll make it. And even if we don't, there's only half the town and my entire family here to see it…"

"Your… your family is here?" Caroline asked and looked down at Rebekah, looking even paler than before. "All of them?"

"Yes, even Nik," Rebekah answered with a grimace. "I've never been this nervous."

Caroline shared an anxious glance with Katerina and replied softly: "Me neither."

Katerina swallowed heavily and busied herself with tying Caroline's costume.

"Is your family coming?"

"My grandma," Bonnie answered, wrenching a last pin into her bun.

"My foster parents promised, but that doesn't mean much," Hayley said. Katerina threw her a look and felt an unusual rush of sympathy for the beautiful brunette – Hayley, like Katerina herself, had spent all the past few holidays at school instead of going home.

"Mine won't come either. It's too far away," Katerina replied quietly.

"My mum promised she'd come. If the work's not keeping her… you know what she's like." Caroline sighed and tied the satin band of her mask behind her head. Now she really looked like Rebekah's dark twin – the exact same hairdo, the same make-up; the same mask, only where Rebekah's was of a silvery white, Caroline's was jet black.

"Ready," she said softly, staring into the mirror. She didn't sound very convinced.

"Five minutes, girls," called Isobel Fleming, striding into the room in a stunning black dress. As the school couldn't afford hiring another male dancer, their teacher was going to dance the role of the wizard herself.

"Katerina, Bonnie, why the hell aren't you wearing your masks? _Four minutes._"

Suddenly there was a noise outside - the music began. People were applauding.

Siegfried and Miss Fleming were positioning themselves in front of the door, preparing for the opening scene. Rebekah peered around the corner to get a glimpse of the stage.

"And the curtain is _up,_" she whispered hoarsely.

* * *

He had positioned himself strategically between Niklaus and Kol, his mother sat on Kol's other side. They were sitting in the best seats of the theatre, in the loge, where all the world could see them. While his mother and Kol were both clearly relishing in the attention, Niklaus looked almost as uncomfortable as Elijah was feeling.

"Why couldn't we just sit somewhere in the back like normal people?" he muttered darkly and Elijah chuckled.

"I knew this whole thing wouldn't really be to your taste, Niklaus. No drinks."

"If mother wasn't here I'd have brought some anyway," he replied with a wry smile.

"Well, that really would have been just what we needed."

"So I didn't do it. You're rubbing off on me, brother. I'm being a good son, could you imagine?"

Elijah shook his head, smiling. "You must be ill."

"Yes. Very ill indeed-"

Loud music drowned the rest of his sentence. The performance was beginning.

When the first dancer entered the stage, Elijah had to elbow both his younger brothers to keep them from laughing at the young man's outfit. "_Behave_," he growled, Kol rolled his eyes in response, and Niklaus gave back quietly:

"For God's sake, Elijah, I am twenty-four. Don't you think it's a little late to educate me?"

"Hope springs eternal, brother dearest," he whispered. "And now _be quiet._"

"You wanna pull rank with me, brother, that doesn't work; I might not be good at anything else but in that one regard I am well and truly above you."

"We're not in the army, Niklaus, we're in the theatre," Elijah answered softly, feeling the familiar worried frown on his face. His brother had had moments were he had clearly believed himself to be somewhere completely different, once when Elijah had asked him the year, he'd replied _1944\. _That had been around Christmas. In 1948.

"If we're not in the army, then why don't you drop the military tone?" His brother threw him a sardonic smile, clearly aware of what his brother was thinking.

Elijah sighed and turned back to the stage just in time to see the dancing students enter the stage.

He had seen ballet performances before, but nothing with a stringent plot. This was an abridged version, however he had to admire his mother – the piece's power was undiminished.

Rebekah was stunning, that much even he could understand, but as brilliant as she probably was, he hardly had eyes for her. He watched the group of dancers, transfixed, hypnotised. In his defence, he had always loved this music – though deep down he knew that was a very poor excuse because it really wasn't the music that held his attention.

Oh no, it was her and he knew that all too well. But he couldn't help it – and wasn't it understandable? The girls had probably been told to smile, but _her_ smile was real – small but radiant and highly contagious. The effort had conjured a faint blush on her cheeks and her brown eyes had a spark in them that reached him though he sat so far away from her.

She was beautiful; there was no way he could deny it.

He stared at her, spellbound and _far _too emotional for his own good.

_Dear Lord, he _really _was in trouble._

And the fact she was only seventeen was the very least of his problems.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

He stepped outside, glad for the cold. He really needed something to ground him, and in the freezing night air he could almost retrieve the composure he had so minutely build up. Without it, he felt naked and weak.

The theme music was still stuck in his head.

Breathing in deeply, he cast a look around, scanning the crowd of girls for his sister.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Rebekah," he told the next-best girl firmly, his words directed more at himself than anyone else.

"Over there," the little girl told him in a hushed voice and rushed off hastily, leaving Elijah to wonder momentarily why half the school seemed to be scared of him.

"Bekah," he called, watching as his sister pulled the needles out of her hair with an annoyed look on her face. "You were splendid."

Rebekah grimaced, shaking the remnants of the braid out of her flaxen hair and replied: "Thank you Elijah. Thinking about a career as a ballet critic?"

He shook his head, thinking Niklaus's sarcasm was really having a bad influence on their sister. "I might not understand much of ballet, but…"

Katerina and Caroline exited the building, flushed and laughing, a third girl in tow.

He realised he had stopped talking and cleared his throat. "… but I think I can tell beauty when I see it."

His sister followed his gaze, smirked and muttered: "Oh, I believe you do."

Hastily, he returned his eyes to his sister, but it was too late. Elijah fought down a curse – as if Niklaus knowing wasn't bad enough…

But Rebekah just laughed. "Don't worry, brother dearest." She rose on tiptoe, kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear, sounding far too gleeful for his liking: "Your secrets are safe with me."

He wanted to deny it, but it was far too late anyway. "I hope they are, Bekah."

She grinned. "Thank you for coming, Elijah. I have to go, mother wants a word." Rebekah rolled her eyes and sauntered off.

He groaned and stared after her, wondering whether he could trust her and why he even was so paranoid. What scared him wasn't actually people knowing, after all, what scared him was what it might do to him.

Besides, she was his _sister, _God damn it, his beloved little sister; she was _family_. When had he stopped trusting her?

"Elijah."

The sound of her voice made him jump and his throat had gone mysteriously dry. "Katerina. Congratulations. You did very well."

She laughed and wrapped her jacket more tightly around her fragile form. "As if you could even tell which one was me from up there."

"Of course I could, I may be older than you but not _that_ old. My eyes are still rather good, thank you very much," he replied, smiling without meaning to.

Katerina shook her head, grinning. "I didn't meant that. I'm glad you liked it." She paused and glanced up at him for a moment before returning her gaze to her battered shoes. "Thank you for the book."

"It was not a gift, I'd like it back."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile was still on her lips. "And I would've never kept it. Seriously though? _The Hound of the Baskervilles_?"

"Not a good choice?" he inquired, more worried about this than he should have been.

"A very good choice," she answered reluctantly, grimacing. "It's good. Really good. I just meant that I would have never chosen this one."

"It was not my first choice either. It might not really be a book for girls, but then I thought maybe the problem was that people have been giving you books for girls."

She grinned. "Maybe. Well, you'll get it back when I'm done, at the rate I'm going it shouldn't take longer than another week."

"There's no hurry, I must have read it about four times."

"Yes, that's about what it looks like," she answered with a grin.

He laughed. "Oh, you should see the book I took with me to war, it's all but falling apart now but I can't bring myself to part from it."

She looked up at him and bit her lip. "What made you of all people come to a ballet performance?"

He raised a brow at her. "Only last week I had to listen to my brother telling me I was too cultured to survive. A curious remark coming from Niklaus, but then again, irony was always his forte… Anyway, I don't see what is so strange about me coming to my mother's ballet performance."

"Well, you never came before."

"Nor did my brothers," he gave back, trying to elude her interrogation, but he had underestimated her. _Again._

"Yes, and we both know Klaus didn't come for your mother's sake. Or for Rebekah's, before you try to tell me that."

He couldn't suppress a smile. "Where are you going with this?"

"Nowhere, I'm just wondering why you came."

He suddenly noticed two things: firstly that everybody else was long gone and secondly that she stood close, awfully close. Had he initiated that?

"Oh no, you want to hear me say that I came to see you dance."

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "Did you?"

Finally she looked at him. He knew it was stupid, masochistic – this could be his last chance to save his skin, but he knew already that he didn't have the self-restraint left to take it.

"Yes."

The smile on her lips widened. There was still lipstick on them from the performance, bloody red, very slightly smudged. It had happened at the ball, too – clearly she wasn't used to wearing lipstick and had not paid attention to it.

His heart was racing and his throat felt tight. He couldn't tell whether he was ecstatic or terrified – looking back, it had probably been both.

The events of the next few seconds never quite reached his brain. She had gripped his shirt collar, pulling him close; his hands were trailing down the small of her back, tangling in her hair – he had never deliberately put them there. He felt her soft lips on his and his mind went absolutely blank to the point where he was starting to forget to breathe.

His fingers were shaking and he felt dizzy, due to the lack of oxygen probably. He pulled her even closer, her hands gripping his shoulders, and desperately tried to remember whether kissing a woman had always put him in this state.

This was, in every possible regard, the single most stupid thing he could have done to himself, but as scared as he was deep down – there in the freezing October night, he felt more alive than he had since he had first heard the machine guns.

* * *

**_*A/N* _**I hope you enjoyed this chapter ^^ It's a bit of a key piece, so I hope I got it alright. I'm starting to be rather fond of Rebekah, for some reason… I hope I can work her in a little more in the later chapters.

And I hope you liked my choice of book. I thought about it for ages, but there really are only a handful of English books written before 1950 that I read and really throughoutly enjoyed, hence my choice.

Please let me have your opinion about it?


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five – October 1950**

Again she woke with a bizarre feeling, taking a moment to understand where she was. Then it all came rushing back and she fell back onto her pillow, her throat tight and feeling her face flush carmine red.

She couldn't have done that, she couldn't possibly have been insane enough to actually-

"Oh God," she whispered. "Oh God, oh my-"

"Kat!" Caroline hissed, re-emerging from behind the wardrobe with her blouse only half-closed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I, well… nothing. Why?" she asked feebly, knowing she would probably not come off as very convincing with her cheeks still burning bright red.

"Katerina Petrova, I don't believe a word you're saying," Caroline replied, grinning widely. "Think I didn't notice you had disappeared all of sudden yesterday evening?"

"I forgot my shoes and had to go back for them," Katerina said, her voice firmer now.

Her friend's blue eyes flared ice-cold in her direction. "Kat, we've been friends for over _seven years, _keep your secrets but _don't you lie to me._"

"You're one to talk, Caroline Forbes; your list of secrets has grown awfully long since the last year."

Caroline shook her head, sighing, and straightened her grey pullover. "Whatever. I might not know where you've been but I sure as hell know _whom _you were with. I'm not blind, Kat, I saw a certain someone talking to Rebekah minutes before you vanished off the face of the earth."

Katerina bit her lip, glaring at her best friend. Well, it was no use hiding it from her – if she refused to say anything, Caroline wouldn't stop nagging all day and then Bonnie would hear… and if Bonnie heard, then within half an hour all the school would know that Katerina had-

She couldn't even bear to think that all the way through. Besides, she had to get it out or she would burst.

"Care," she whispered. "I'm _panicking._"

The blonde pierced her with a sharp look and asked slowly, her anger apparently forgotten: "Kat, what have you done?"

"A bloody good question, that is," she groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. "Dear God."

Caroline sat down on her bed opposite her and asked, smiling: "Spit it out, what happened?"

"I kissed him," she whimpered and it sounded like a question.

Her friend laughed. "Well, I was starting to think you'd done God knows what…" Watching her friend's horrified facial expression, she added with a mild smile: "Katerina, you're both grown-ups, you like him, he likes you, you kissed, what's the big deal?"

"If it was just anyone it wouldn't be a big deal, but-"

"But?"

"He's… he's twenty-six and he's, good lord, he's a Mikaelson-"

"Yes, he's twenty-six, he knows what he's doing, Kat. It doesn't matter who his mother is-"

Her friend's words, however well intended, were doing nothing to calm her down and apparently, Caroline noticed that, too.

"God, Kat, it was just a kiss, it doesn't mean you'll have to marry him. It doesn't have to mean anything. People kiss, it happens, get a grip."

Katerina shook her head, willing her to understand – it wasn't that simple. It just wasn't.

"It doesn't happen _to me, _though, Care."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "You'll be fine. Come on, we'll be late for class."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

She wasn't fine, though, not in the least.

Because maybe she knew that things didn't always have to end like they had with Kolja, but that didn't mean that she wasn't scared they might.

She had the scars to prove that "first love" wasn't always such an awfully romantic concept, and who was to say the second would turn out any better?

But on the other hand, when Caroline had told her it didn't have to mean anything, that hadn't helped her either, because even though the sheer idea of whatever she might have got herself into scared her half to death – it _had _meant something.

She wanted it to mean something. Or did she?

"Miss Petrova, I won't ask you again."

She raised her head, startled, and stared at her math teacher. "I'm sorry, Mr Gilbert, what did you-"

"I asked you for the solution of this equation. Now."

She cleared her throat, looking up at the equation on the blackboard – when had he written it there? – her mind completely blank. "I'm sorry, I… I've lost the thread completely, sir."

"Well, perhaps then you ought to pay attention," John Gilbert said coolly. "Miss Nguyen, maybe you could help us out?"

"a is eight and b is three," Anna answered and their teacher nodded approvingly.

"Any questions as to how this works, Miss Petrova?"

Katerina shook her head, staring down at her paper and noted down the solutions, her mind still far from mathematics.

John Gilbert raised a brow at her and sighed. "Well, I hope you don't, we'll have an exam before Christmas and you just like everyone else are expected to do well."

"Understood, sir," she muttered, still not looking up.

Caroline's hand rested on her back for a moment and Katerina threw her a small smile.

"Ladies, you have interest in doing your homework," John Gilbert said, noting down a few exercises and strode out of the room without another word.

"Kat, you're all pale," said Bonnie, looking at her worriedly. "Come on, don't worry, it's just an exam. You'll be fine-"

"Could you all please stop saying that?" Katerina hissed, jumping to her feet, and rushed out of the room, heading for the bathroom where she locked herself in a cubicle like some thirteen year-old schoolgirl. She felt confused and hysterical.

.

_"Come on, Katjuschka, don't be like that-"_

_"Let me go, Kolja, I don't want to, please let me go, you're hurting me-"_

_._

Oh God, now she was crying. The whole situation was messing with her head. She angrily rubbed the tears off her cheeks and breathed in deeply a couple of times.

"You're a Petrova, a Petrova survives," she muttered, eyes squeezed shut. "We survive anything. _Anything at all._"

.

_"Let me go, please, Kolja, let me go, please, it hurts, you're hurting me, please-"_

_._

"We survive," she repeated, her fingers clenched into her skirt. "We survive, we survive, we survive-"

"Katerina?"

She flinched and quickly wiped the hot tears away.

"Kat, what's wrong?"

She grimaced at the sound of her friend's worried voice, but couldn't bring herself to reply.

"I know it's not the math exam, come on, tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine, Care, go back to class, I'll be right with you," she answered, surprised how firm and honest her voice sounded.

Caroline was quiet for a moment. "I'm your friend, Katerina," she said softly. "I want to help you."

Katerina took a deep breath and pushed the door open. "I know that, and that's kind of you. But I don't need help, Caroline. I am fine."

Her friend pierced her with an icy glare and shook her head. "You have a problem, Katerina. Is there a single person in the world that you trust?"

She shrugged and exited the bathroom with her best, haughty smile on her lips. "I have a survival instinct, Care."

"So you trust no one?" Caroline demanded hotly. "And what do you do if you ever need help?"

"Why do I need to trust someone who helps me?"

Caroline stared at her for a moment, then shook her head and suddenly smiled. "There's my girl."

"Stop taking care of me, I'm fine."

"I don't believe you, Kat, but that's alright. I know you'll tell me eventually."

_No, I'll never tell you that, Care, I've never told anyone, _she thought and smiled at her friend.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

A few days later, Klaus turned up for the first time, "picking up Rebekah", which for some mysterious reason meant that he had to stick around the school for over an hour.

Katerina shook her head, grinning, and watched her friend and Klaus sitting on a little wall in the school garden, laughing about something or another.

They were sitting really close, and one could probably see them from every single window in the school, but they didn't seem to care while Katerina could barely resist the urge to look for Mrs Mikaelson over her shoulder.

From there on, he appeared on the doorstep at least once a week, causing Caroline to smile and Rebekah to roll her eyes and mutter "Oh please, Nik, could you be a little more obvious".

And, perhaps ten days after the performance, his older brother came, too. He just stood in the entrance hall, waiting for his little sister. The first time, she didn't even see him; Bonnie came upstairs, frowning and told her: "I think we're being invaded, Kat."

Katerina looked up from her homework and raised a brow. "How so?"

"Well, first Klaus starts running around here all the time and now Elijah is standing around below, waiting for Rebekah. Seriously, can't she even find her way on her own?"

"He's here?" She put the pen down and got to her feet. "Excuse me for a moment, Bonnie."

"Where are you…?"

Of course, she just had to miss him.

.

The second time, she was just on her way to her dormitory when he appeared in the doorway. He caught her eye and looked like he was going to say something, but then fixed his gaze on his polished shoes instead.

Katerina wanted to say something, too, but didn't really know what and especially didn't know how, so she grabbed her bag and made her way up the stairs.

She turned back at the top of the stairs for a moment and caught him looking up at her.

Katerina walked off and felt absolutely dreadful.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

_I feel like we ought to talk. I meant to do so yesterday, but as you probably noticed I'm a coward and didn't. Please meet me at five in the woods next to the south entrance – I am aware of how that sounds, but believe me, I mean you no harm. I just need a word in private._

The note turned up in her locker in the bathroom. Katerina suspected Rebekah, or maybe even Caroline, but neither of them said a word.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"I'm glad you came," he said quietly, hands down his coat pockets. It was freezing and Katerina wrapped her scarf tightly around her shoulders and smiled tentatively, thinking how lucky it was he had no idea of how much it had taken her to come.

"Me too," she muttered, reaching down her coat pocket. "Your book. Thank you."

He reached for the book with a smile of his own, and laughed when a small bar of chocolate slipped out from between the pages. "Thank you, Katerina."

"A curious meeting place."

"Well, I thought it in both our interest if we didn't meet in plain public," he replied, still with that mild smile. "And this place… we used to come here as children."

"Where exactly are we?" she asked, casting a look around. They were standing in the middle of the old goods wood, a small ruin to her left where a gloomy staircase led down towards a dark vault.

"I doubt you'd want to know."

"Then why would I ask?"

He chuckled and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, this place was once part of the Lockwood's property, my father bought it in the twenties. It... there are rumours about captives who starved down there in the middle ages... Niklaus used to hide down here from our father; it was the safest place around. My parents were both superstitious people. My father believed this place was haunted and my mother doesn't set foot on this soil, either."

She stepped closer to the entrance and pulled her scarf tighter. "What does one have to do to a child to make it hide down there?"

Elijah sighed and sat down on one of the walls, turning the book over in his hands. "My father never liked Niklaus," he began quietly. "He had the suspicion that he was not his son, though as far as I know my mother never gave any indication for that. Ironically, my father met much the same fate as my brother did – he went to war and came home a broken man. Like my brother, he took to drinking, and most of all it was Niklaus who had to endure his fits of violence."

Katerina sat down next to him. "How old was he?"

"Niklaus? Oh, I'm afraid he was very young when it first happened. Finn was the only one who would have been old enough to protect him, but he never did – Niklaus and he were never close and Finn was scared of our father." He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Well, who could blame him? We all were."

She looked at the young man next to her, the warm brown eyes and the slightest hint of a smile around his lips when he looked back at her. "You're not angry at him."

He bit his lip and looked away, staring into the depths of the wood. "Oh, I used to be dreadfully angry. But after the war, I've come to the conclusion that a trauma is an illness. My father might have hurt us, but not out of spite or because he was evil. He was a victim of what had happened to him."

"I don't believe I would… that I would have had the strength to deal with it like that," she whispered, her voice faltering a little. Oh no, she wouldn't have had the strength to forgive such awful things.

She _didn't _have the strength to forgive such things.

"Is it strength or is it weakness?" he gave back with a sardonic smile. "Sometimes I wonder."

She shook her head. "If you can't forgive then you can't forget. Can't live on. Hate is a paralytic," she said firmly, thinking of how her nightmare kept coming back, even two years later.

"True," he muttered, watching the forest. "But then again, most feelings are."

She turned towards him, slightly shocked by his words. "Not all feelings."

He sighed, looking at her with the same warm eyes, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Love? I must admit I have my doubts about the concept."

There was an odd stinging in her chest and her throat felt tight. Suddenly, she felt terribly sorry for him – she knew this feeling, she knew it all too well. "No, that is too sad a thing to live with. If we don't believe in love, what's there left to live for?"

He looked at her, a genuine smile on his lips now and a hand on her shoulder. "And you really are seventeen?"

Katerina laughed, shaking her head. "Yes, of course I am. What makes you think I wasn't?"

"Well, my sister is your age and I never had the feeling she understood me like that."

The feeling of his hand on her shoulder was upsetting to no end, which was the best excuse she had for her reply or her harsh tone.

"You should be bloody grateful she doesn't."

For a moment, he just looked at her; the next he had pulled her close and kissed her.

She was panicking, and forgetting to breathe and her heart beat so quickly it hurt. She was at the same time dreadfully scared and insanely happy; and though that could have been her imagination, it seemed to her his hands were shaking almost as much as hers.

A sudden sound made her flinch and only when she felt him smile against her lips she realised the book must have slipped from his pocket.

Her lungs were empty and her heart was clenched in panic, but suddenly it cost her all her strength to maintain her guardedness. So she buried her fingers in his dark hair and let it go.

She couldn't even tell when she had last handed over control like that. Her head was spinning so badly she was certain she would have fallen off the wall ages ago if he hadn't held her. She really wasn't used to this anymore.

"Are you alright?"

She smiled ruefully, avoiding his eyes, her fingers still gripping his collar. "I'm… I'm scared, but," she laughed nervously. "It's not your fault. Just me."

His hand gripped her shoulder and he looked down at her, his brown eyes oddly dark. "What happened to you, Katerina?"

Her breathing quickened ever so slightly. She cursed internally and tried to bring it back under control. "Nothing."

Elijah watched her closely, but then he smiled, tucked a curl behind her ear and bent down to pick up the book. "We should get back, the way I know my mother she counts her students at dinner. Besides, I really must apologise for luring you out here in this cold."

Katerina laughed and shook her head. The man really had no idea what he was doing to her – right now she felt like she was burning up. The cold didn't even reach her.

But he was right – Mrs Mikaelson would freak out if she found out Katerina had disappeared. They weren't allowed to leave school without permission, not that Katerina, Caroline or Bonnie had ever really cared.

In a split-second decision, she turned back around and asked tentatively: "Where… where is this going?"

He looked almost as uncertain as she was feeling when he replied softly: "I don't know, to be quite honest." In an insecure gesture, he ran his fingers through his dark hair again. "Dear me, it's… it's been a while since I…" He cleared his throat and smiled. "We'll sort this out, Katerina. I'll give you some time, I suppose we might both need it."

"Maybe, yes," she muttered and turned away slowly.

"I'll be in touch," he called after her, a trace of laughter in his voice.

"About what?"

"Well, you'll need another book," he replied with a grin and Katerina burst out laughing.

* * *

_***A/N***_ So, a lot of hints and bits of information… I know I'm being quite harsh with my main characters when it comes to their backstory, but the idea was to stay as close to the original story as possible and they didn't exactly go easy on their poor characters, either, did they?

Now, again, I've put some thought in this… the name Kolja is related to the name Niklaus.

Please tell me what you think about it!


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six – November 1950**

The first few chords came reluctantly, a little too loud and not perfectly timed, then the memories slowly returned into his fingers. The sound made him smile – for a moment, the house didn't seem so gloomy and empty and he could almost picture little Rebekah crawling over the floor again, her favourite doll in tow; Niklaus outside the window with dirty clothes, hardly eleven years old, kicking a muddy ball around the garden.

He breathed in deeply and listened to the soft melody, allowing the familiar sound to conjure up the memories of simpler days for a moment.

Rebekah sat down next to him on the piano bench, a surprised smile on her lips. "You haven't played in ages."

"For seven years," came their brother's voice from behind them. Niklaus leaned in the doorway, arms crossed and a faint smirk playing around his lips. "Since the war. I _wonder _what changed now."

Elijah grimaced; their little sister laughed and shook her head at Niklaus.

"True. But then again, Nik, you of all people should keep your mouth well shut."

He grinned and shrugged her comment off. "Speaking of which, I'm running late, I should be off."

Elijah raised a brow at his younger brother. "Today? Mother might just throw a fit-"

"And I couldn't care less if she did, Elijah," he replied calmly.

Glaringly obvious as his brother had been – _kissing _Caroline in plain sight, Niklaus really was more subtle than ever – it hadn't taken his mother very long to grow aware of her son's doings. And when she had, the ever-present tension between mother and son had shorted out; the house had been filled with yelling for hours. Mostly Esther's yelling; Niklaus had remained remarkably calm. He had just sat there, a glass of scotch in his hand and insisted they were both of age and his mother had no influence whatsoever on what they were doing, with whom and why.

Only when she had announced she would have a word with Caroline about all this, Niklaus had started to raise his voice.

It had ended with another thirty minutes of yelling, a spilled glass of scotch, a shattered vase and his mother in the worst mood she'd been in for years; but as far as Elijah knew, she had indeed not spoken a word to Caroline about the whole affair.

He himself was putting quite some effort in being a little more subtle – well, he had to, since his little brother's best argument didn't apply in his case. Though she seemed far older most of the time, Katerina was seventeen and antiquated as this small town was, all hell would break lose around them if whatever it was they had came to light, especially because she was a student at his mother's school. Good Lord, he could hear them already – _nine years younger, and no intention to marry her, could you imagine?_

He didn't care, but he had seen how his mother had reacted to Niklaus's and Caroline's relationship and Caroline at least was of age. He could about fathom what a strain it would put on their family's bond if she was to find out about his secret, too.

All that secrecy would not really have bothered him – only it limited the little time they had even more. He still spent most of the week in London; their weekends were short and under tragically close surveillance by his mother.

But however dissatisfying their situation was, he couldn't remember ever feeling this happy, this alive. Perhaps he had been before the war, but somehow those memories had faded so much he could hardly recall them though they only were six or seven years old. Or maybe he really had never felt this way. He couldn't tell and it didn't matter.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

He shuddered and pulled his hat deeper into his face. His breath conjured thick white clouds into the crisp evening air. It was freezing, but he couldn't have stomached being inside for another minute. Since Kol had returned to school the previous day, his mother's mood had hit zero once more. She felt like she'd lost all of her men, him and Kol to their respective schools and Finn, Niklaus and her husband to the war.

"You're the only one I have left," she liked to tell her daughter demonstratively, usually followed by a reproachful look in his direction and a comment along the lines of "since your brothers are never here".

"Just now, mother, I _am _right here," he had answered this morning, not quite able to keep the anger out of his voice. Niklaus had witnessed the whole scene with a stony expression and his lack of reaction had enraged Elijah even more – was he the only one who _cared _that she acted as if Niklaus too, had died during the war, as if he'd never returned home from battle?

Now his mother had left with Rebekah to visit an aunt in Bristol overnight, Niklaus had disappeared to God knew where around lunch and hadn't returned since. Elijah had fled the devastating emptiness of the house he'd grown up in. He couldn't stand to remember how happy they'd been, couldn't stand to realise for how long they weren't anymore. Since his father was dead, Finn was gone and his mother paralysed by bitterness, he as the oldest brother was the one in charge; and until now, he had failed spectacularly – a tragedy this morning had reminded him of a little too much for his liking.

It pained him to watch his family fall apart like that and he hated having to take a side – in his case, siding with Niklaus, against his mother who rather pretended he was dead than face what her son had done, and against their youngest brother who resented Niklaus for what had happened to their father.

Elijah sighed and pushed his hands deeper down his pockets. The cold night air that filled his lungs was starting to calm him a little. His thoughts returned to more pleasant things – mostly to a handful of precious careless hours he'd spent with Katerina the previous day – and a small, rueful smile crept on his lips. He would have to make do with those memories all week…

By the time he had reached the edge of the wood, he was deep in thought; so when he heard soft footsteps in the snow, he gave a start, feeling positively guilty. Perhaps his brother was right – he really was very lucky he had survived the war at all, vigilant soldier that he was.

He spotted a familiar figure on the path that led to the school, grinned and quickened his steps. In the fading light, it took him a moment to understand what looked so strange about her appearance –

"Dear Lord, what happened to you?"

She was soaking wet, stray curls had fought their way out of her tight bun, shining jet black; her coat clung to her like a second skin and anyway it was so thin that she couldn't have possibly felt warm in the first place. She'd wrapped her arms tightly around herself in a futile attempt to keep herself warm, her lips looked blue and she was shaking.

Katerina avoided his eyes and replied irritably: "My own stupidity, that's all."

He shook his head at her and hurriedly took off his own coat and held it out to her.

"Oh please, that's really not necessary," she protested, looking positively alarmed.

He almost laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. Perhaps another two hours and you'll have frozen to death."

She glared back at him defiantly, then seemed to understand he wasn't going to let it go and wrapped herself up in the heavy woollen coat. "Thank you," she muttered, staring at her feet.

He tried his best to ignore the biting cold and put an arm around her shoulder, directing her back towards the house.

"You have to get inside," he said, shaking his head at the young woman. "What are you even doing here?"

Katerina shrugged, pulling his coat tighter around herself. "Your mother ordered new dancing shoes for Caroline, I'm supposed to fetch them." She laughed, shaking her head. "I didn't see the ice on the Wickery Bridge and slipped."

Elijah remembered how they'd played on the small bridge as children – when Rebekah was five, she'd fallen into the river and if it hadn't been for Niklaus she would have surely drowned.

"It's very easy to fall from that bridge," he muttered.

Katerina laughed weakly. "Maybe, but still bloody stupid."

He pulled her closer, watching her anxiously – she looked like she really was about to freeze to death.

"Come on," he murmured, reaching for his key – which obviously wasn't there, since it was right where it belonged in his coat pocket.

Cursing under his breath, he quickened his steps, dragging her with him, and gently reached for the key in her pocket. She shivered, though he couldn't tell whether it was because of the cold or because he couldn't really avoid touching her.

She was deadly pale and now her lips were really blue; it _was_ dreadfully cold. He fumbled with the lock for a moment and pulled her inside.

"This way." Suddenly he regretted his constant caution – he wished he'd left the fire burning. While she sank down on the couch, hugging her knees tightly, he busied himself at the fireplace. When the fire finally sprang to life, he got to his feet an announced quietly: "Wait a minute, I'll find you something dry to wear-"

"Now you're overdoing…"

He'd left the room before she could finish, ignoring her completely.

When he returned with a stack of his sister's clothes, she was kneeling in front of the fireplace, looking a little less like an ice statue. "Thank you, Elijah, but I really can't… what if I ruin them?"

"You'd probably do my sister a favour, my mother bought her those clothes and she despises them," he replied drily and handed her the clothes, smiling a little. "I'll make a tea, would you like a cup?"

"Is that a joke?" she asked with a faint laugh. "I might need a few litres to defrost."

"Back in a moment," he replied softly. "You'll want to change your clothes, Katerina. Honestly, you'll catch your death."

.

When he came back with the tea, she still sat in front of the fireplace. Rebekah's pullover was slightly too big for her and for the first time, he thought she looked very fragile. She'd let down her hair and now it framed her pale face in tight curls, still damp; her clothes hung over a chair near the fire.

She looked up and smiled.

"What do I tell Miss Fleming if she asks where I've been all the time?"

He raised a brow at her. "How about the truth?"

Katerina laughed and took a cup of tea from him. "What, that you asked me inside and we had a tea while my clothes hung over a chair? Sounds like a splendid idea."

Elijah grinned and took a sip of his tea. "You make it sound quite a lot worse than it actually is."

"Well, that's how it will sound to everybody else," she replied, still smirking, and clutched her teacup. "What about your mother, where is she?"

"She went to visit my father's sister in Bristol, dragged Rebekah along," he answered. "Bekah wasn't too happy about it. Niklaus should be somewhere here, but… God knows where he went."

Katerina raised a brow at him. "I think we can both hazard an educated guess, right?"

"Caroline," he muttered, shaking his head. "Is she doing alright? Mother isn't… very pleased with her at the moment, and I know what that is like."

"Care's fine. I think she's enjoying it, in a way," she replied with a little grin. "Her little rebellion."

"Is that what it is to her? A rebellion?"

Katerina chuckled and shook her head at him. "Hold your horses, there is no one less likely to break your brother's heart than Caroline Forbes. She likes him, really, to a point where I can't… no offence, but sometimes I think you two must have seen something in Klaus that I won't ever see."

Elijah stared into his cup and caught himself asking himself the same stupid question that had made him laugh at many of his friends… where had this person been all his life?

"Maybe we do. Or maybe I just still see my little brother whom I've grown up with, I don't know."

She gently blew on the tea and looked up at him over the edge of the pearly white china, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. God, she was _beautiful…_

He couldn't suppress a small smile. As miserable as she must have been feeling a moment ago, he couldn't help being immensely grateful for her little mishap – he hadn't been expecting to see her before the next weekend or, even worse, the one after that.

He watched her, putting his cup down slowly, scared he'd spill the tea all over his mother's precious carpet.

"Why are you smiling like that, is there… something in my face?" Katerina asked with an insecure little smile.

Her reaction took him by surprise. "Oh no, by no means. Quite the contrary," he replied, shaking his head at her. "I'm just…" He cleared his throat. "Are you cold?"

"Much better, thanks," she muttered, smiling up at him. "I don't think I've ever had such expensive tea in my life."

He laughed. "I am truly sorry that my mother's posh tea is all I can offer you."

"It's not that bad, and it's warm," she replied with a faint smile. He liked that about her – that disdain towards aristocracy, towards wealth, old money, antiquated morals and codes of ethics. Even though that meant that everything he had to impress a woman wasn't worth a penny in her case.

She finished her cup. "I've got to get back-"

He couldn't help a smile at her words. He caught a wisp of soft dark hair between his fingers. "Still damp, you're not going anywhere."

"You don't intend to lock me up in here, do you?" she gave back with a grin, brown eyes sparkling at him, holding him.

"I have better ways to keep you here," he replied quietly and buried his fingers deeper in her hair.

Her lips curved into a softer smile. "You probably have."

Still smiling, he crossed the last few inches left between them and kissed her.

As she placed a hand on his neck to pull him closer, her fingers touched the bruises on his skin, just for a second, but the sudden pain was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

She traced the greenish marks with her finger, shock etched onto her pretty features. It was remarkable she had seen them at all, just this morning he had, not without relief, found they had almost faded. It was annoying him to hide them, moreover, they were a constant source of guilt for Niklaus who had secluded himself even more since it had happened.

"He tried to kill you," she whispered, and he wanted to shake his head, to protest; but the evidence was fairly obvious: in his right mind or not, had it not been for Rebekah, the pressure of his brother's fingers would have strangled him.

"It was an accident," he said softly and closed his hand around hers, gently pulling it away. "Besides, had I had the nerve to defend myself a little more, it would have never happened."

"You didn't defend yourself?" she repeated, her brown eyes shimmering just a little too much in the light of the fire. "Do you have no survival instinct at all?"

"It takes an immense lot of effort to hurt my brother. I feel like father when I do, and I just keep seeing him how he came to me afterwards, black and blue all over, crying. I said I would protect him. You should have seen him then, Katerina – he was a sweet kid. Full of life and eager to learn, with a good heart and brave as any child could be. Even when father picked on him more than on the rest of us put together, he was never hateful, he fought and thrived for our father to love him. Rebekah idolised him, did everything for him. Secretly, I admit, they were always my favourite siblings. Finn… well, I don't know, I never had much of a connection to him, maybe we were too many years apart, maybe I just never really understood him; and Kol, he was always wild and careless. But Niklaus and Bekah… they were the most wonderful of children, and by rights they should have grown to be outstanding, great people. Instead, our father and this… this tragic, spiteful world made them into a paranoid man with absolutely psychopathic tendencies and a foolish girl so desperate for love and attention that she would blindly throw herself into the arms of anyone who would promise her a home." He shook his head, putting a smile on his lips while he fought back the stinging in his eyes. "And once again, I have burdened you with a scene from this family's tragedy that has no meaning to you. I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes, a fake smile of her own on her lips. "I thought I made myself clear the last twenty times," she muttered and, very pointedly avoiding the bruises, pulled him closer again. "Stop. Apologising."

The answer died on his lips. Something had changed in those kisses, there was something desperate about them now, some kind of longing that he hadn't felt in years, not like that. But he was holding back, scared to break this fragile girl that for some reason seemed to be just as broken as he was. If he hadn't noticed before then he did now. There was that hunger in her, too, just below the surface; but she was scared to let go, maybe even more than he was. And he couldn't help wondering what might have happened to her - a girl this young that had spent most of her childhood in the secure, lonely environment of his mother's school - that could spark such deep-seated fear.

He caught her hands in his and sought her gaze. "The control is all yours, you know? My fate in your hands."

"Good," she replied with a grin, but he thought he spotted a glimpse of relief in her brown eyes, which confirmed his theories further – and fed that diffuse anger they had sowed in him. Though the moment her lips were back on his they were forgotten, just like most other thing on his mind (which was probably what made this so addictive).

How they ended up in his room, he couldn't actually tell, all he knew was that her curls were long dry and it was long since dark when he could finally bring himself to utter the words "you really need to get back".

She laughed, her breath tickled his skin. "Oh God, what do I tell them?"

He grimaced and got up with a sigh. "Not the truth."

"Oh, that's helpful," she gave back and combed through her hair with her fingers.

"Say you got lost in the forest."

"Right," she scoffed. "The forest isn't _big _enough to lose myself in for, what, two hours? Three? They'll know there's something going on."

"Well, Caroline knows anyway, so does my sister…"

"Yes, but Bonnie doesn't," she replied. "And Bonnie can't know, because she just can't keep a secret."

"She will find out eventually, Katerina," he answered softly.

"So will your mother."

"Yes, she will," he muttered, running both hands through his hair. "May God have mercy on my soul."

He watched her as she put on her uniform and pulled her hair back into the bun it had been in this afternoon, then grabbed something from his bedside table and got to his feet.

"I feel a tramp for saying that now, but, um, goodbye."

He was amazed how quickly she went back to being almost shy around him – when there could have been absolutely no talk of shyness minutes ago. "Well that feeling is completely misplaced. And I'll take you back, so there's no saying goodbye."

"No, don't, really, you've-"

He placed finger on her lips. "There is no discussing this."

She sighed. "Very well. If you really have nothing better to do."

"I absolutely don't. And I will force you to wear my coat and if it's the last thing I do."

Katerina groaned, shaking her head at him. "Don't you think you've done enough?"

"No."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The forest was pitch-black and the night air bitterly cold, but he felt warm, and somehow deeply peaceful, a feeling that had grown strange to him. Her fingers were loosely intertwined with his and he thought he would like to remain in this moment forever – just the two of them and the quiet of the forest, the patches of snow below their soles and a glimpse of the stars above.

When they reached the edge of the forest, he stopped and let go of her hand.

"Well then, goodbye," she said softly, a smile playing around her lips.

"Wait, I," he reached down his pocket and pulled out the book, "I almost forgot."

She laughed when she realised what he was holding, gripped him by the jacket and kissed him. "Will you be home next weekend?"

"I'll try," he muttered and pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "You need to go. And, Katerina-"

"Hm?"

"Should my mother give you a hard time about this, tell her the truth. I'm the only one she'd be angry with, you have nothing to fear from her. Well, perhaps you shouldn't tell her the _whole _truth," he added with a faint smile.

"Who would have thought you of all people would enjoy this so much?" she asked with a laugh and disappeared into the night.

* * *

_***A/N* **_I am highly insecure about this chapter, so by all means let me have your opinion on it!

As for the characterisations of Klaus and Rebekah, I've got to admit I'm really proud of them. Just watched "Farewell to Storyville" (and it was _beautiful_) and I think there is an immense lot to learn about the three of them as a family and as individuals. So thoughts and comments would be very welcome.


	8. Chapter Seven

Hi vivaciously vain! I'm glad you're enjoying this story so much, I put an awful lot of time and effort in it and your kind words are much appreciated! So far it is updated weekly.

* * *

**Chapter Seven – December 1950 **

"No, this is too much, I'm gonna go get her." Katerina threw the book shut and got to her feet. "She's been gone all day. Sooner or later Mrs Mikaelson is going to kill her."

Bonnie smiled at her. "I'm on your side, Kat, you don't have to tell me." She absent-mindedly ran a finger along the graph she was drawing and shook her head. "But I don't think you should go."

"Why not, 'cause it's _dark_?" Katerina scoffed.

"Don't be silly, it's just…"

"Klaus?" Bonnie nodded. Smiling, Katerina reached for her scarf. "What should he do to me? He's got no reason to hurt me, Bon. He wouldn't dare," she added softly, more to herself.

"Still, I don't think you should go there alone."

"It's perfectly safe, Bonnie, stop fussing," Katerina said with a laugh. "Who are you, my mother?"

"What of his brothers?"

That remark came so unexpectedly – it was so _absurd _– that she couldn't help laughing. When Bonnie frowned at her, though, she quickly caught herself and said, in the most authentic voice she could muster: "What, Kol is a year younger than me, this is ridiculous. Why are you so set on believing they would try to hurt me, anyway? What for, I'm just a student, I'm nobody."

"I don't know, it's just… they give me the creeps, the whole family. Like… like there's something fundamentally _wrong _with them," Bonnie answered softly, staring at her exercise book.

"Well, as a family there certainly is," Katerina muttered and grabbed her coat.

"At least take a torch with you," her friend said and Katerina grimaced. Right, Bonnie was bound to believe she was without any sense of orientation whatsoever – after all, she had told everyone she'd got lost in the forest on the way back from the Mikaelson's mansion. But she gladly endured everyone thinking she was stupid… Fighting down a smirk, she nodded and went to fetch her old torch before sneaking out.

Getting out of the school was easy enough – Mrs Wilson, her biology teacher, took watch and sneaking past her really was no fun at all, it was just too easy.

On her way through the forest, though, she was almost glad for the torch. The darkness and the soft noises between the big old trees were sending shivers down her spine and she was immensely relieved when she finally spotted a light between the branches.

The mansion looked even more massive in the dark, the long drive with the neatly trimmed hedges and the huge balcony over the entrance door. It was a beautiful house, old, but not run-down like the school. Yet, probably due to Elijah's stories about his family, about what had happened within these walls, about what was _still _happening within these walls – it had something incredibly dark about it and despite the bright light in the windows and the soft noises coming from inside, it seemed empty to her. Abandoned and haunted by the ghosts of people lost to war and violence.

She herself only connected a single memory with it, a happy one, yet she was almost scared to ring the doorbell.

To her immense surprise and slight worry, it was Kol Mikaelson who opened the door, his trademark dirty grin on his face.

"Another of my brother's lady friends?" he asked in a heavily suggestive tone. Katerina raised her chin a little, trying to scrape together some contempt – the boy was a year younger than her for God's sake – and replied coldly: "I'm here for Caroline."

"Oh right, that was her name," he said, his smirk widening even more. He scrutinised her openly from head to foot, and young though he was she felt highly uncomfortable, naked. Dirty.

"I know you from somewhere, don't I?" he asked slowly, visibly enjoying her discomfort. "I could swear I'd seen you before."

"Well, I'm in the same year as your sister-"

"No, that's right, you were at the ball with Elijah."

He was still staring at her in that shameless fashion.

"Kol," came a sharp voice from the end of the hall.

"Friend of yours," Kol drawled, turning towards the man in the doorway.

"Won't you ask her inside?"

"Sure," Kol said with a false smile. "Anything you say, oh wise brother." He turned back to Katerina and stepped aside. "Come in."

She entered tentatively, putting as much distance between herself and Kol as possible when she passed him. He was back to eying her in that disconcerting way and she could feel his gaze prickling in her neck. Elijah met her eyes for a second or so, a polite, empty smile on his face.

"Good evening, Katerina," he said quietly and she couldn't help admiring his acting skills: there was an ever so slight pause before her name, as if he hadn't immediately remembered it. She allowed herself a tentative smile.

"Good evening. I don't want to intrude, I just… I came to fetch Caroline."

"Well, she's quite busy with my brother at the moment, not sure if you'd want to see what exactly it is they're doing…" Kol said, grinning widely.

Elijah sighed. "Isn't there some important essay on your desk that needs to be finished by tomorrow morning?"

Kol rolled his eyes. "What would I do without you, Elijah? I mean, imagine, I might even be having _fun._"

"Most of all, you would never finish school, but my sincerest apologies for not managing to get myself killed and relieve you of my burden, brother."

The fact his brother had just accused him of wanting rid of him didn't seem to faze Kol in the least. He merely raised a brow at Elijah and sauntered off without another word.

Katerina stared after him, a shiver running down her spine, and wondered whether there really was something wrong with every single member of this family.

She felt a hand resting on her hip. "So, you… came for Caroline, then," he muttered in her ear and she could hear a trace of suggestiveness in his voice.

Katerina laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You are very full of yourself and yes, I'm here for Caroline. Actually I'm pretty worried your mother will rip her head off before long."

"Your concern for her speaks highly of you, Katerina, but I don't think she has anything to fear from our mother. Quite unlike me, neither her nor my brother ever sought to hide anything from her nor did they do anything wrong, so she has nothing on them." He sighed and trailed his finger down her arm. "Sorry about my brother, by the way. He's, well… I'm afraid he just craves attention, and the more appalling his methods the more satisfied he is. Mother dotes on him, lets him do whatever he wants, hoping that he'll come to his senses eventually. I have my doubts; I'm starting to think it's just his nature… anyway, sorry. I'll make sure nothing of that sort will ever happen again."

She smiled, turned around and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "Big words. Don't worry, though, I can handle Kol."

"You shouldn't have to. And I shouldn't let you."

Katerina shook her head. "I'm more worried about your other brother. Will he get Care into trouble?"

"Well, for now he's crazy about her and he certainly doesn't mean to hurt her. But then again, it's Niklaus. All he needs to do is lose his temper, feel betrayed, relapse…" He sighed heavily and placed both hands on her shoulders. "I can't promise he won't bring her trouble."

She bit her lip and turned her head to the stairs. "And I guess I'm not the right person to tell her she's making a mistake."

"Perhaps not."

"Anyway, if she doesn't come back now, she'll get us all into trouble," she muttered, winding out of his arms with a sigh. "Where are they?"

He was about to answer when a sudden noise made them both jump.

Katerina frowned and cast a look around. "What was that?"

Elijah's face had gone stark white and his eyes were oddly wide when he started towards the stairs. "A gunshot. Stay here."

Her heart pounding, she hurried after him. On the landing, they almost ran into Kol.

"Elijah, what-"

"Poachers. Get outside and tell them if they fire one more shot I'll kill them personally. Be careful," Elijah ordered without stopping.

On the corridor, he grabbed her shoulder and pierced her with a firm look. "You stay out of this room no matter what happens, do you understand me?" he said sharply; then ripped a door open and rushed inside.

"Caroline, get out, right now," she could hear his strained whisper. Katerina clenched her hand over her mouth and leaned against the wall, not quite sure for whom she feared more.

"No."

"Please, Caroline, just go. You're in danger." Silence for a moment, then Elijah went on, his voice louder now, but gentle. "Niklaus. Why don't you put that away?"

Katerina cursed, bit her lip and entered. She'd never been in this room before and she'd thought it was Klaus's bedroom, but it wasn't. There was a fireplace and a monstrous oak desk, heavy curtains and two chintz chairs by the fire. Bookshelves lined the walls.

The late Mr Mikaelson's study.

Katerina had no idea what Klaus of all people was doing here, but at the moment that was the very least of her concerns. There was a smudge of something dark over Caroline's arm that looked a dreadful lot like blood.

More blood to find on Klaus's hands, shards of glass were scattered around him and there was red on them, too. It took her ages to understand he must have broken a glass and cut himself on the fragments. His blue eyes seemed almost black as he stared at his fingers, transfixed; his expression was blank as if he didn't feel the pain of the cuts. He was breathing heavily.

Elijah threw her a look somewhere between exasperation and panic and jerked his head towards the door before making another few steps towards his brother. Katerina grabbed her friend's hand.

"Go on, brother, give me that. You're bleeding-"

"Stay away from me," Klaus growled, abruptly looking up at his older brother. He took a step back and Katerina noticed the way he gripped a big shard firmly, almost as if he was holding a knife.

Elijah raised both hands and froze on the spot. "Alright."

Katerina squeezed Caroline's hand. "Come on, Care. We gotta get out," she breathed, but Caroline shook her head, her eyes shimmering in the firelight.

"You're safe. Put that away, you don't need it."

"_Safe?_" Klaus repeated, sheer disgust in his voice. "I'm not safe anywhere in this house. My little brother wants me dead, my mother pretends I was already, and to you and Rebekah I am nothing but a burden. Believe me, I'm not _safe_ here."

"They love you," Caroline whispered. "They don't see you as a burden, they want to help you, Klaus."

"Niklaus, none of us here wants to hurt you," Elijah said softly, still not moving.

"Oh really," Klaus scoffed, a condescending laugh on his lips. "Not even you, brother? You'd finally be rid of me. You'd be free, think about it. No more running after me, no more making excuses. Having your life back, Elijah, all of your time and your thoughts all to yourself, how does that sound to you?"

"Like I'd lost my little brother for good. Just might be the end of me," Elijah replied and took his hands down slowly. Klaus's hand holding the shard shot forward; he gripped it too firmly, blood spilled on the carpet.

Katerina's heartbeat pounded through her head. She couldn't hear anything else anymore.

"Put that away, he's you're brother," she said and took a few steps forward. Caroline tried to hold her back, but she tore herself free from her grip. "You're going to regret this."

Klaus started towards her. Katerina barely had time to flinch before his throat made contact with his older brother's forearm. Klaus slammed backwards into the bookshelf, the next moment Elijah groaned in pain when the fragment sunk into his skin.

"Get out," he growled, teeth clenched. "_Now!_"

Klaus's fist hit his jaw with an ugly sound.

"Get _out_!"

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Hold still."

"It's nothing, I can do that myself-"

"Shut up," Katerina said firmly and tightened her grip around his arm. The glass fragment was long and sharp all around; she had cut her finger when she'd pulled it out, causing Elijah to fuss even more. She couldn't help wondering how Klaus's hand had to look like – if he had stabbed his brother's shoulder with such force, he was bound to have driven it through his hand as well.

"Is this how you generally spend your weekend? With your brother trying to kill you?" she muttered, pressing the towel to the ragged wound. It was already soaked with blood; the cut was deep.

"It doesn't – in five years, he injured me maybe six or seven times. It doesn't happen often," he replied. "Besides, don't be so melodramatic. If he'd wanted to kill me, he would have cut my throat and I'd probably be dead. But instead, he aimed for my shoulder, he wanted me to let go."

Katerina gave a cold laugh. "Well, in that case most people would have just said 'let go'."

Elijah sighed, placed a hand on her arm and answered softly: "My brother knows me, it was therefore perfectly evident to him that as long as you were standing right behind me I would have done anything to keep him away from you. In his mind, it was the only way."

"But it wasn't!"

"Katerina, under such circumstances, his mind would present him the situation in the most objective way. There was a threat to his life, me in this case. I wasn't going to stop as long as you were there; he had no influence on your whereabouts and consequently saw no way to reason with me. So his only possibility to save his life was to incapacitate me," he explained patiently.

She shook her head at him. "And that's all well and good, except for the tiny little fact that you were at no point trying to kill him."

"He is dreadfully paranoid, convinced everyone around him would kill him the moment they might profit of his death. He _believed_ I was trying to kill him."

She took his hand and watched the man in front of her, gnawing at her lower lip. He looked bad, there was a bruise forming around his jaw and the towel pressed to his wound had smeared blood across his chest. But his brown eyes were soft, there even was a smile playing around his lips.

"You keep forgiving him," she whispered. "But he's insane, he'll do nothing but hurt you-"

"He doesn't mean it, it's not his fault," he replied just as quietly, almost pleading, but she cut him off.

"I know, but that'll be of little use to you when you're dead!"

He shook his head, ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her gently. "He's my brother, I cannot give up on him, Katerina. I can't. I promised I'll look after him and Bekah. Always and forever. I've failed him so often, when our father abused him I just stood by, I…" His breath quickened slightly and he closed his eyes, but she could see the tears pour out between his lashes. She leaned her head against his good shoulder, a hand on his neck.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "It's just… does it have to be all or nothing? Either you save him or he kills you?"

"I see no other way," he whispered. "Besides, if I accept that he can't be saved, then… then I'll have to accept what that means for me. That there is no hope for me, either. I can't do that."

Katerina sighed, her forehead still leaning against his shoulder. It almost made her laugh. Wasn't it funny how they'd found each other, the two of them of all people? Perfectly whole on the outside – a girl from a ballet school, perfectly adapted to her new country, self-confident and with good friends and a law student from a rich, influential family who'd returned from war without so much as a scratch, selflessly caring for his younger siblings and his mother.

But on the inside, despite the fact they were still young, they were both cracked like a window pane the moment before it shattered. Ready to break.

"I want to help," she said softly, hating her voice for sounding so weak. _You've helped me, too._

Her comment made him smile. He cupped her face with his hand, gently brushing her hair aside. "You do."

Someone tentatively knocked on the door. "Kat?"

Katerina brushed a kiss over his lips and got to her feet.

"Come in," Elijah called and fumbled with the button of his shirt.

Caroline entered. She looked pale, a few wisps of flaxen hair had escaped her tight bun, but the blood on her arm had gone. Her eyes fell on the bloody towel in Elijah's hand and she bit her lip.

"That looks nasty."

He just smiled. "Don't worry, Caroline, I'll live." He eyed her cautiously. "Are you alright? Did he-"

"No. I'm fine." She ran her hand over where the blood had been and added softly, more to herself: "It was his blood."

"Alright," he answered. "You should go back, both of you."

"Yes," Katerina muttered. "Come on, Care."

Elijah grabbed a clean towel and a jacket and accompanied them downstairs. Klaus stood in the doorway to the kitchen, still looking pale and shaken. He eyed the ruby red stains blossoming on the snow white towel and sought his brother's gaze.

"Elijah," he began hoarsely, but Elijah just gave a curt nod in his direction and turned away from him.

Klaus eyed him for another moment and disappeared into the kitchen.

The front door burst open just as Elijah reached for the handle and Kol entered, shaking his head. "They ran away before I could get to them, but I left them with a warning that next time, we'll have them all arrested," he said, then glanced at his brother and, inexplicably, grinned at Katerina. "What have you two been doing?"

"I've had enough of your tasteless jokes, Kol," Elijah said coldly before she could answer. "As you might imagine, I've had better days, so I suggest you don't try my patience. Get back to your homework."

Kol just raised a brow at him. "Cheer up, no woman likes a bore, brother," he said and went up the stairs.

"I'm sorry," Elijah muttered, shaking his head, and Katerina wasn't quite sure which of his brothers he was referring to.

Caroline threw him a small smile and Katerina brushed a hand against his before they stepped outside.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

As they walked towards the forest, Caroline gripped her hand.

"We got ourselves into quite some trouble, didn't we?"

Katerina grinned. "Does that really surprise you?"

Her friend glanced at her and burst out laughing which finally lit that spark in her cornflower eyes again. Her glee was contagious and Katerina joined in, glad to forget her worries for a moment.

"No, not really."

* * *

_***Author's Note* **_In TVD, I was honestly a bit scared of Kol, because he really seemed completely crazy to me. So I didn't really expect to enjoy writing him this much, but I had oodles of fun having him clash with his brother.

I believe the paranoia bit is very important about Klaus, I hope that came out well enough. I'm not totally sure about the rest, though, please let me have your opinions on this chapter!


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight – December 1950**

"Merry Christmas, Mr Mikaelson," the woman in the shop called after him, "and a happy new year." He wanted to groan in despair. He hated the festive season, and he had his reasons.

.

_January 1941_

_They were just ranging the very last remnants of the Christmas decoration back into the pantry when the letter arrived. His mother was the one that opened it._

_By the time he had scammed the few impersonal lines she had clasped both hands over her mouth and was sobbing. He put an arm around her in a sudden rush of responsibility – he was her eldest son now. Rebekah came barging in through the kitchen door and stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted them. She threw him a helpless glance._

_Kol stormed in, leaving the front door open. _

_"__For God's sake, take your shoes off, Kol, mother will-"_

_Klaus (suddenly the second-eldest, Elijah just couldn't get his head around that) froze in the doorway, staring at the letter, Elijah and their mother, Rebekah and Kol; at the muddy trail their little brother's shoes had left on the tiles. "What happened?"_

_Esther was sobbing into his jacket and Elijah looked from Rebekah to Kol and back to Niklaus, the words stuck in his throat. Their childhood had, for all his mother's efforts, not been without darkness – would they survive losing a brother?_

_"__London was bombed again," he said, his voice brittle and too low. "Finn and Sage…", he sought his brother's blue eyes, looking for reassurance, support, solace, _anything_, "…they're dead."_

.

_December 1944_

_He stared at the envelope on his desk, his sister's tidy handwriting. _Dear Elijah, it's dreadful here without you. Father is drinking and mother is staring out of the window all the time. Kol is getting on my nerves and mother thinks it's my duty to make him do his homework, but he just doesn't do it and then she's angry at me. I wish you and Nik were back. I heard someone say the soldiers would come home for Christmas. Please tell me you'll come back, too, just for a few days…

_His eyes wandered to the framed photograph taken at another Christmas. His parents stood behind the sofa (a very convenient position because it allowed his father to grip the back of the sofa for balance which made him look much less intoxicated than he'd actually been), his mother__with her perfectly trained smile on her face, her hand on his arm, the wedding band caught the light. Next to her stood Finn, both hands resting on his wife's shoulders. To Sage's right sat Kol, next to him Rebecca in a stiff dress that she hated almost as much as their mother loved it. Niklaus had his arm around her, his easy smile on his lips._

_Elijah sighed and tore his eyes away._

_He fervently wished for news from his brother – he just needed him to be alright. Not just for him, though he had always (unfairly so perhaps) been especially protective of Niklaus. He was just scared – his siblings had already lost so much. Could they survive losing another of their brothers?_

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"This one. This one is perfect." Rebekah tugged at her leather gloves and smiled.

Elijah sighed and watched his beautiful little sister, her silvery blond hair flowing down to her collar bone from underneath her bonnet, light eyes sparkling at the tree in front of her.

"Perhaps, but… you know that even a perfect tree cannot guarantee us a remotely peaceful Christmas, right, Bekah?" he asked softly. "We're sitting on a powder keg. If things only get as bad as last year, then we got lucky."

Rebekah rolled her eyes at him and waved at the farmer's boy. "Gosh, Elijah, could you be any more uplifting?" She looked at him and smiled. "Cheer up and try with some hope, it's Christmas."

"Exactly. It's Christmas," he muttered darkly, shoving his hands down his pockets.

"We'll have that one," Rebekah told the boy with a smile.

"Sure, Miss Mikaelson," he replied, grinning back at her.

Elijah pierced him with a cold glance that made the boy cringe back. "That's it, then. Come on, Rebekah."

"Do you have to keep every last bit of fun from me, Elijah?" she whined as they got back to the car.

"That is Niklaus's duty," he replied nonchalantly and opened the door for her. "I'm just watching out for you."

"Oh, where's the difference," she huffed and got into the car, shaking her head at him. "I mean, it's not like you two get to mess around with your playthings all you like."

The motor howled loudly when his foot slipped off the clutch. "_Rebekah!_"

"What, it's true."

"Could you try with a less condescending choice of words?"

"No," she bit back, staring out of the window. "I don't see why. Just tell me why I can't even smile at someone without you or Nik telling me off like a misbehaved child while you two are allowed to knock around with whoever-"

"_Rebekah, for goodness's sake,_" he snarled. "Stop being so vulgar, who do you get this from-", he broke off, took a deep breath and added a calmer: "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

She shook her head at him. "Tell me, Elijah. Is it because I'm a girl?"

"No, it's because you're young-", he replied hotly.

His sister gave a cold, barking laugh. "I'm half a year older than Katerina, you hypocrite!"

"Bekah…"

"I can't believe you," she muttered, still staring out of the window.

"I am sorry, Rebekah!" he yelled. "I never meant to – never meant to get involved with her in any way. It just happened, I don't know how. I haven't had to deal with things like this for seven years and I wasn't even good at it before."

"Oh, of course, Elijah Mikaelson does something he hasn't planned beforehand. Right, who's supposed to believe that?" she scoffed and fixed the landscape outside.

"You are," he replied softly, clutching the steering wheel. "It's true."

She stared at him and shook her head, then after a moment the anger faded from her eyes and a small smile played around her lips. "Well, well, who would've thought. My big brother of all people falls in love… could that be true?"

He slowly exhaled and took his time to park the car in the garage.

"I don't know, Bekah," he whispered. "I've got no idea what I'm doing."

His sister sighed and placed a hand on his arm. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," he repeated after a while, avoiding her eyes.

"You seem so much better to me," she said quietly. "Happy."

"I _am_, more than that, I just – I've lost control, Bekah, I've lost my plan, I don't know how to deal with that," he whispered.

His sister laughed and patted his arm. "It's called life, Elijah. You can't control everything. Let go."

"It's not that easy when you've been trying for half a decade," he replied with a smile and got out of the car. "I am trying to keep my little sister from harm. Look at my other siblings and ask yourself whether that behaviour is really so surprising. Always and forever, remember?"

"You're sweet, Elijah. But, every now and then, try to remember I'm not the eleven year-old girl you left behind anymore."

He chuckled and guided her back to the house. "I'm trying, Bekah. I am. And now brace yourself, mother and Kol must be back by now."

Rebekah groaned. "So much for the season of love and peace."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"I'm sorry, brother, but I've had too much. I need a break."

"Elijah, you can't leave now. Mother will kill you if you're not here for the New Year."

Elijah broke off his pacing and turned to glare at his brother instead. "I know that, Niklaus, and believe me I would love to avoid it." He took up the pacing again. "It's just that I… well, you've seen the Christmas we've had, what with you breaking our little brother's nose… oh, for God's sake, I feel _caged _in here, I can't stay-"

"Why, brother, I can see that," his brother replied with a spiteful little smile. "But what in the name of Heaven am I supposed to tell our mother?"

"Tell her the truth. Tell her that if I'd had another second with this family, I would have gone well and truly insane."

"Isn't that our overall situation?" Niklaus gave, raising a brow at him. "She'll want more than that."

"Distract her from the topic entirely, then."

"Wonderful plan. _How_ exactly do you think I should go about that?"

"Oh, I'm certain there is something on your long list of catastrophes and wrongdoings she doesn't know of yet that ought to keep her busy for a while."

Niklaus snorted. "Like what?"

"What do I know? If all else fails, tell her you slept with Caroline."

Niklaus stared at him in utmost surprise. "Well, now there's a conversation I never thought I'd be having with you."

Elijah stopped the pacing again to pierce his brother with a stern glance. "Would it even be a lie?"

"Of course," Niklaus gave back flatly, then a sly grin crept on his face. "However, something tells me I should ask you the same question."

Elijah held his gaze, but didn't reply.

"Why, why. My saintly noble brother. Who would have thought? But then again, _someone _has to take their virginity."

Something shorted out in his brain. His mind went blank and before he knew it, he'd hit his brother in the face with a force he didn't know he had. Elijah felt as if the air had left his lungs. He had never, _never, _laid hand on his siblings to punish them, had never lost his patience with them, not even Niklaus, no matter what he had said or done. And now all he could bring himself to do was stare at the red blotch forming on his little brother's cheek.

"Looks like we're not that different after all," Niklaus said calmly, having the nerve to smile at him. "Isn't it funny how easily you abandon your tragically conservative moral code whenever it suits you? I wonder how you are any better than me, unless of course having morals you don't respect is still better than not having them in the first place."

"Guard your tongue," Elijah growled and got to his feet. "I'll go, whether you help me or not."

"Well, brother, it's not like I had much of a good reputation to lose when it comes to our mother. But don't expect me to save you from mummy's wrath."

"I would not be so stupid as to rely solely on you, Niklaus," he gave back coolly and smiled at his brother. "I know how that tends to turn out."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

He let out a deep breath as the door fell shut, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. _Peace._ That was one thing he connected this flat to, the smallish room with the worn-down wooden floor and the minuscule kitchenette. Unlike his room at home that was stuffed to the brim with all sorts of possessions and keepsakes, this was the one place that made him look like a soldier. There was only the most necessary furniture, most of it old and used; only a handful of books and a small number of framed photographs – a picture of Niklaus and Rebekah, around sixteen and nine years old, a photograph of his parents, one of Finn, Sage and Kol, two pictures taken at war.

The other thing this flat always felt like, in all its baldness and practicality and all the peace and quiet it granted him, was loneliness. He wasn't exactly known for inviting fellow students over for a drink – he needed most of his week for studying since his weekends were busy as it was. It didn't bother him, he even liked it that way. If he hadn't had these calm days during the week, he would have probably gone insane a long while back. He needed this to keep sane, to gather his strength, and last but not least to somehow get through his studies.

No, in here, he was safe – and he was alone.

.

The next evening he sat bent over his books, trying to scrape together another two pages for his essay. He'd put some music on, an old record from the twenties, which was why he didn't hear the knocking on the door at first. He got to his feet with a frown, glanced around the flat to find it in a dusty but tidy state and opened the door.

"I know I shouldn't be here-"

There were a handful of snowflakes clinging to her brown curls and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. For a moment, he couldn't muster any reply at all.

"Um… merry Christmas?" he offered tentatively, unsure what to say.

She laughed and pushed the curls out of her face. "Merry Christmas."

"How did you… what brings you here?"

She gave a helpless shrug and tugged at her sleeve. "I was… with my parents, for Christmas. I haven't been with them in a while and it… it was alright, until I," she broke off and closed her eyes for a moment. "I lost my nerve and I just left, and then I got to Waterloo and found that I'd missed the last train," she gave a nervous laugh and shook her head. "I didn't know where else to go."

Several questions shot through his head, but he decided not to voice them and instead said with a laugh: "I can't even remember telling you of this place, am I getting old?" He shook his head. "God, how rude of me… come in, please."

Katerina stepped inside carefully and stopped in the middle of the room.

He suddenly felt ashamed of the heaps of paper that covered the table. "Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting visitors."

"No, it's-"

"Please don't say _nice,_" he cut her off with a smile. "Because, let's face it, that would be a blatant lie."

She returned his smile. "It _is_ a nice flat. It could do with some… furniture, but it the rooms are nice."

Elijah laughed and took her coat from her, eying the old garment with disdain. "You must have frozen half to death in this thing. _Again. _When will you allow me to buy you a _proper _coat?"

"I don't allow you to buy me things," she replied with a mild smile and lifted herself on the kitchen counter. "It would just lead to the question where I got them from. Besides, I got through life in this coat for the last three years, I'll get through in it for the next three. You're the spoiled rich kid, don't forget that."

"Careful, young lady," he said, grinning, and stepped in front of her.

"Are we getting a bit condescending now, Mr Mikaelson?"

He placed a hand over hers, leaned across the counter and whispered in her ear: "This is my flat, so… no."

Before he had any chance to pull back, she turned her head towards him and replied very softly, her lips less than inch from his: "I think you do." His breath caught in his throat when she came even closer, her deep brown eyes sparkling at him – God, he'd _missed _her. A part of him was once again screaming in panic because _he was losing control, _wanted to push her away from him; the other wanted to pull her to him and never let go again. So he just froze, sinking, drinking in her eyes.

"And I'm honestly worried about the fact that I like that."

She placed her hands in his neck, her delicate fingers playing with his hair and when her lips met his he realised that this was the first time he felt at home within these walls.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Why did you leave your parents?" he asked softly. Night had fallen hours ago, but London was never quiet – certainly not to him who could still remember the sound of the sirens – and though he felt a little drowsy, he knew he needed to ask. Maybe not even for his sake, after all, she had been the one to teach him how liberating it could be to just talk to someone.

He had to help her, too. He owed her that much.

She leaned against his shoulder and the mess of glossy brown curls blocked her face from his view. He had a hunch of what she was about to say and he wondered whether he ought to put some more distance between them – but he certainly didn't want to, especially not now, so he didn't.

"I ran across someone I… someone I never wanted to see again in my life," she replied, her voice toneless and quiet. "And then I just ran."

He waited for her to go on, not wanting to ask, but she remained silent.

"Who?"

"A Russian boy I fell in love with two years ago," she answered, still in that hollow voice. "Kolja, he lives down the street. Older than me, five years. We… wanted different things."

Despite her careful choice of words, he was starting to feel a little sick.

"I wasn't ready," she breathed, her breath quickening slightly. "I didn't want-" Her voice faltered for a moment.

There was a disgusting taste in his mouth, like vomit and ashes. It wasn't like he was surprised – hell, he'd guessed it had been something like this. He wasn't stupid. The second time he'd kissed her, she'd told him she was scared and the spark of fear hadn't left her eyes for a damn long time.

But none of that could have prepared him for the way she spoke about it. So detached, disenchanted, resigned – it hurt.

"I'm not weak," she said suddenly, her voice still quiet but very firm. "I can tolerate a whole damn lot of things. I didn't let him break me. And I would've got through this, if-" She took a deep breath and he wanted to scream, wanted to hold her – but he didn't dare touching her, felt guilty even for the contact of their shoulders. He bit his lip and waited for whatever horrors there were to come.

"We had no money even then. The school was my only future, and I was just fifteen, I was just a child myself-"

He could hear she was crying and he tasted blood. _No. _This was too much, far too much, how was this fair? How were people supposed to believe in justice in a world that let such things happen?

"I kept saying that my father forced me to do it, but that's not really true. I cried for months. I would have never been able to care for a child, but I… I still lost it." Her fragile body shook and he felt the overwhelming desire to hit something. Someone. The one whose fault this was.

"Because I killed it."

"It wasn't your fault," he breathed, his voice sounding raw and hoarse.

"I know it wasn't," she replied calmly. "It was his fault. I never wanted that child and if it had been for me, it would've never happened, but… I still killed it."

He felt like he'd cried for hours even though he hadn't shed a single tear and he was disgusted by himself – he should have taken things slower, he couldn't believe he hadn't, because he'd somehow known, had he not? His hands were shaking and he felt awfully sick.

He got up to put space between them and stared out of the window, not daring to look at her, scared of what he might feel if he did - it wasn't enough, it wasn't even a start, it didn't undo a single second of his sins. But he had to try. He had to do _something_.

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you." She placed a hand on his shoulder which made him feel even worse. He felt dirty.

"Stop blaming yourself. Hey. You helped me, Elijah Mikaelson."

"How?" he asked tonelessly, watching her reflection in the dark window.

"You gave me someone I could trust. And I thought I would never trust anyone again." A hand on his other shoulder, her curls tickling his neck. "_I trust you, _do you understand me?"

"Why?"

She chuckled softly, her breath warming his skin. "I don't know. Maybe because… because it scares you, too, and you do it anyway. We're a little alike, that helped."

"Did he pay for it?" he asked after what felt like an eternity and her silence was more of an answer than he needed.

Although he still felt bad about it, he turned around and let her lean into his arms. If he could give her a little solace, then that was what would do, even if it was a damn lot more than he deserved and not even remotely enough.

They stood still for a while, then she said very quietly: "If you try to offer sleeping on the floor, I'm going to kill you."

He laughed for a second. "Duly noted."

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from crying. But he lay awake for hours, trying to swallow the taste of ash on his tongue to no avail.

* * *

_***Author's Note* **_Again, I want to stay as close as possible to the original storyline. And she lost a child. So – sorry, not sorry. And yes, it's very dark and depressing. I'm good at that. Not sure if that's a good thing, but I am. (It does say Romance/Drama in the description ;) )

I would very much like your opinion on the scene between Elijah and Rebekah, too, so please try that nice button below and tell me what you think about this chapter ;)

Btw, I have written some other stories for The Vampire Diaries that you might enjoy, namely "Does Death Have Angels?" (Klaroline) and "How to Tell a Fairy Tale" (Kalijah). Have a look if you'd like!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine – January 1951**

He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflexion, wondering whether it was visible somewhere in his eyes or in his face.

He had started to wash his hands obsessively multiple times per hour, almost scrubbing his skin bloody, and he knew it wasn't going to be long until someone noticed, until someone recognised the signs.

Elijah sighed, dried his sore hands and joined his brother at the breakfast table.

"Good morning, Niklaus," he muttered and poured himself a tea.

Niklaus sat bent over the papers, scrambled eggs and toast growing cold on his plate, hardly touched. Elijah frowned when he saw that his brother was reading the local news – of a London newspaper.

"Morning, brother," Niklaus replied without looking up. "I think this might interest you."

He shoved the newspaper over to him and pointed at a small article in a corner. Elijah raised a brow at his brother and glanced over the short text.

_A twenty-two year-old Russian immigrant was found dead in his flat in Durban Road this Tuesday, killed by several blows and kicks to the head and the chest. The landlord discovered the body when a neighbour who had heard noises and raised voices from the flat expressed his concern about the mechanic. The investigation is ongoing, Scotland Yard is…_

"What did he do to her, Elijah?" Niklaus asked, his voice almost soft.

"Sorry, what?" he stammered, looking up from the newspaper with a start.

"What did he do to her? What was the reason?"

"Who are you talking about?" His voice was far too defiant, too aggressive; and of course his brother heard that and smiled mildly.

"Shall we stop it here, brother? I'm not blind."

"I have no idea what you're referring to," he replied, this time too quietly.

Klaus chuckled and took a sip of his tea, pulling a face when he found it was cold. "Come on now, Elijah. First of all, Katerina leaves her parents three days early, but returns on the planned date," he raised a brow at his brother and added: "But keep pretending that you don't know where she's been if it makes you feel better. Secondly, my ever-punctual brother returns home a day later than he said he would. Thirdly, on precisely that day a young man is killed in the street where your girl grew up-"

"_How _do you even know where she –" he asked sharply and stared at Niklaus, shaking his head. "What makes you find out such things about her?"

"Caroline gave me a letter to post, it went to Katerina's parents' address," he explained impatiently. "I wasn't finished. Point four, my brother returns with a definitely manic air about him and keeps scrubbing his hands like there was something on them. Dirt maybe." He took a spoonful of his eggs and added: "Or blood."

Elijah fixed him with a cold stare. "What do you want, Niklaus?"

"The truth," Klaus replied conversationally. "I want to know what made my ever-so-noble, flawless, restrained brother lose control with so… fatal an outcome." He leaned back in his chair and fixed his brother with his stormy blue eyes. "What did he do to her?"

Elijah shook his head firmly. "I won't tell you, Niklaus. I believe not even Caroline knows… "

His brother smiled. "You know, Elijah, you were the one with the Sherlock Holmes novels. I never liked all that deducing, but I'll give it a shot. So, the three most probable reasons for a murder are, um, greed, jealousy and revenge if I'm not very much mistaken."

"Stop that, brother."

"I think we can rule out greed, don't you, what is there you could want from a young Russian mechanic? Jealousy's looking a lot better, but then again – she hasn't been home for years and you're not the kind of person that would kill a man just because he's been knocking around with your girl, especially not this brutally." Niklaus eyed him closely and went on in a very quiet voice: "Revenge sounds a lot more like you, brother. Killing someone this violently, against your sacred law and your ruddy pacifism – he didn't hurt _you_. He hurt someone you care about. It can't have been any of us, so that only leaves Katerina. Something bad, certainly a crime… if it made you this angry, my money is on rape."

Elijah's fingers closed around the teacup that promptly shattered in his grip. Tea spilled over the table and drenched his toast. Niklaus smiled sadly.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." He sighed and finished his eggs. "Told you – we're not that different. It just took a little more to break you."

Breathing heavily, he contemplated the tea stains on his cuff and answered in little less than a whisper, more to himself than his brother:

"You have no idea how much I hope you're wrong, Niklaus."

"Oh, I believe I do know," his brother replied, still with that tragic smile on his lips.

"No," Elijah breathed. "You don't. Because if I am like you, then we are both lost. And then Bekah is, too. Maybe even Kol. If this family cannot save itself, then no one can."

"I don't need _saving, _Elijah," his brother bit back and got to his feet. "I'm getting better."

"Obviously. And you proved just how much you were in control by breaking Kol's nose on Christmas Eve?" Elijah scoffed.

Niklaus chuckled and shook his head. "Be honest, brother. He deserved it. If I hadn't done it, someone else would have. Maybe even you." He patted his shoulder and smirked at him. "Don't worry, I won't sell you out… as long as you don't give me any reason to."

He sighed and stared at his plate and the tea-stained newspaper. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"No, I'm protecting myself. God knows what you'll end up doing now that you've gone over the edge, brother."

* * *

_***A/N***_ Did that come as a little surprise? I hope it did ;)  
Welcome to Elijah spiralling. Out of character? Possibly, but think of the witch in TO that he promised to keep safe and then killed because she tried to harm his family. I think he can be fairly violent, with a little incentive. That, and he's dealing with a trauma, let us not forget that.  
Did you like Klaus's little Holmesian escapade? In character or out of character? Let me have your opinion!


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten – March 1951**

"Girls, there is someone I would like to introduce to you," Mrs Mikaelson called and, as always, when her eyes passed Katerina she flinched slightly and cast her eyes down. The headmistress still had no idea of who her son was spending half his weekends with, and though she didn't really know what would happen if she did, Katerina was dreading that moment to no end.

"So tonight you will all assemble in the dancing room at eight sharp. Now take care of your homework."

Katerina leapt to her feet and made her way out of the dining hall.

"Why are you running like that?" Caroline asked, slightly out of breath as she chased after her friend. Then she suddenly rolled her eyes and added with a grin. "No, wait, let me guess. A certain someone has finished his exams?"

"First half," Katerina muttered and cast a look around. "Keep your voice down."

"Seriously? You two are really ridiculous," Caroline replied. "You can't hide this forever, besides, what are you afraid of?"

Katerina laughed and hurried up the narrow servant's staircase. "Well, Mrs Mikaelson for starters."

"What could she possibly do to you?"

"Throw me out, rip my head off?" Katerina replied with a shrug. "No, honestly, it's him I'm worried about. He's come to blows with his mother so often and he keeps saying he doesn't care, but… I don't think he would just shrug it off if he lost her trust."

"Maybe he wouldn't lose it, Kat," Caroline answered softly. "You don't know how she might react, and for God's sake, he's her son. He loves you, he's happy – shouldn't that make her happy, too?"

Katerina felt a pained smile play around her lips at her best friend's words. _He loves you._

She knew it was her own insecurity and that it probably meant nothing, but –

_He'd never said so._

Nor had she, she knew that too. But she wouldn't, couldn't, not until she could be sure it was safe to say it. Yes, she had trust issues and he knew that. Was it too much to ask to grant her this bit of safety?

"I'm not going to risk it, Care," she replied softly. "At least not for now." She pushed her depressing thoughts from her mind and asked: "Can you help me with maths? I'll never get it done on my own."

"Sure," Caroline muttered, eying her with an odd expression in her cornflower blue eyes.

"What do you think Mrs Mikaelson will have to say to us tonight?"

"No idea," Caroline replied with a shrug. "We'll see."

They set about their homework, four exercises for maths, three pages to read in biology and ten in history, an essay for English.

Though most of the time Caroline's and Katerina's diligence regarding their homework had suffered severely since September, their relationships did have at least one positive effect on their grades for both of them.

Caroline had developed a very strategic, rational way of thinking which was scaring her friends slightly but had worked wonders for her understanding of physics and maths.

Katerina had, though not entirely voluntarily, learned a lot about history since Elijah dropped a reference to some historical event or a famous person in every second sentence. He didn't even notice that he did it and she supposed that he'd never spoken to someone who didn't understand what he meant before. At first, she'd felt insanely stupid when she'd had to ask about it, but with his schoolmasterly disposition, he actually _enjoyed _explaining things to her (and she couldn't help thinking he was starting to do it on purpose, daring her to ask).

Her essays were getting better with every new book on her bedside table. It had been the books that had finally led Bonnie to find out where her friend disappeared to so often. To Katerina's surprise – and immense relief – she had not told a soul about it. Bonnie had even lied Mrs Mikaelson straight to the face a few weeks back when the headmistress had wanted a word with Katerina about a grade.

.

The old woods were starting to feel like home to her, she'd come to know them like the back of her hand. The days were getting lighter again and Katerina yarned for spring to come.

He sat on the narrow wall of the ruins waiting for her. Not for the first time she asked herself how they had to look like from the outside. Him in his black jacket, the fresh haircut, the tie he hadn't bothered to get rid of and the ridiculously expensive leather shoes he insisted on – and then her in the ever-same worn-out coat and the handmade scarf her mother had given her for Christmas, her battered shoes, her school uniform and her curls mussed up from the breeze. He always looked neat, well-to-do, cultivated and mature while she looked so young and insignificant next to him. They were bound to be quite a strange pair for an outside observer.

He smiled when he spotted her and got to his feet.

"Katerina."

A smile spread on her lips, too and she refrained from saying anything at all, buried her fingers in his dark hair and kissed him. She could feel him grin against her lips before he pulled her closer, messing up her hair even more.

She rose on tiptoe and gripped his collar, sighing softly against his lips.

After a moment, he gently pulled away from her and wrapped a stray curl around his finger, smiling. "I don't think we ought to take it much further out here."

She rolled her eyes at him, smiling back. "Well, I've missed you."

"I noticed, yes," he answered and carefully tucked the curl behind her ear.

"So, how did the exams go?"

"Surprisingly smooth," he muttered and pulled her closer again. "Very exhausting, though, and I'd be much obliged to you if you could take my mind off it."

She grinned. "I think that could be arranged."

.

"You don't happen to know who your mother wants to present to us?"

Elijah sighed. "I do. We've got guests from America. Brothers, they've quite recently inherited their father's theatre on the Broadway. Apparently my mother knew him and now they come to her, looking for dancers."

Katerina laughed, resting her head against his neck and said: "You don't seem too fond of them."

"Well, the older one is quite the handful… his brother is rather pleasant company, though. I suppose they're not actually the problem, it's just that I've got more than enough on my plate without them." He sighed and straightened his shirt collar absent-mindedly, his free hand playing with her hair. "But well, another week and they'll be gone."

"Oh you poor man," she muttered, grinning, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Are we getting a bit cheeky, Miss Petrova?"

"That's what got you to like me in the first place," she replied.

"If anything, that was _part _of the reason," he muttered, shaking his head, but she still didn't believe him for a second.

"My mother wrote me," she said quietly, her joking mood suddenly gone.

"Because you left at Christmas?"

Katerina shook her head. "Kolja is dead," she muttered, avoiding his eyes. "Apparently it was all over the papers. Someone beat him to death around the New Year, but Scotland Yard didn't find anything."

"He lived in your street, right? Durban Road?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes."

"A whole lot of people live there, someone must have seen something. You don't beat someone to death without anyone noticing," he replied, his voice a little tense.

"A neighbour saw a man, average height, dark hair, army clothes. That's all they ever got. My mother said they never had a single suspect, not even a motive."

He was silent for a while, his fingers tangling in her hair, then asked softly: "Are you alright?"

"Yes. No. I… I feel bad," she whispered, leaning against his shoulder. "I feel dreadful_. _Because I'm… I'm glad he's dead. I'm relieved. I'm an awful person."

"No," he said immediately, pulling her closer. "You're not. _He_ was an awful person. He shouldn't have ended like that, he should have had a trial... But to you, none of this matters, Katerina. Whether dead or behind bars, it is your good right to want him far away from you. Don't feel sorry for him. He doesn't deserve that."

She nodded, not entirely convinced. "I wonder why that man did it," she muttered, staring into the depths of the woods. He didn't speak a word for a long time.

.

"It's time you got back," he muttered after a look at his watch. Said watch was just another proof of the difference between them. Her father had a watch, too – it had cost him about ten pounds and was at least forty years old, he'd bought it from a colleague at work. Elijah's, however, was of a foreign brand, Swiss at a guess. Either way it had been ridiculously expensive and was probably worth a fortune by now.

She sighed and let him pull her to her feet. He still seemed somewhat absent as he took her hand and led her back towards the school. Katerina watched him out of the corner of her eye, taking in his furrowed brow, the tight jaw. His face looked rather pale and something dark sat in his brown eyes.

"Are you alright?"

He immediately put a smile on his face and replied, his tone perfectly even: "Of course."

Katerina sighed. He would never drop that mask, not even for her. "Will you stay until Sunday?"

"I'd feel better if I returned to my books, but I daresay my mother will force me to stay," he muttered, his smile turning a little rueful. "But well, if it means I'll get to spend another afternoon with you, I'll certainly enjoy myself a lot more than I would in London."

She laughed, wondering whether she would ever get used to his kind of humour. Probably not.

"Then I'll try to run away again tomorrow," she answered and added with a slight frown: "I can't believe nobody at school noticed this. I mean, what do they think I'm doing?"

"Their assumptions are probably fairly close to the truth," he replied lightly and smiled. "Though I suppose most of them won't have _me _in mind as the person you spend all your time with. I'm far too…"

"Smart?" she suggested, brow raised.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Old. I was going for old, Katerina."

"You're not _old._"

"Maybe not in years, but there _are _nine years between us."

She shook her head, her free hand deep down her pocket. "If this is your way of telling me I am childish-"

"If you ever let me finish a sentence-"

"You would wallow in self-pity and doubts even more than you do already," she shot back, grinning. "And I thought _I _was the expert."

"_If you let me finish my sentences_," he repeated, forcing a stern look on his face, "you would never reach such absurd conclusions in the first place. Now I can't remember what I was about to say, thanks a lot," he growled, but she could hear the laughter he barely managed to hold back.

"Something about me being too young for you-"

"There, you're doing it again, I never said that," he said, still grinning, then his voice turned serious. "Twenty-six is not an old age, but I… feel old. You should have someone whole to take your mind off your worries, not someone who has more problems to burden you with than a person twice my age should have. Not someone as broken as I am."

She stopped, turning to face him, but he avoided her eyes. "You may be troubled, Elijah, but you're not broken. I mean, if you were broken, then what would I be?"

He shook his head mechanically, still not looking at her. When he replied, his voice sounded unusually reluctant. "You know, a lot of people told me it was a miracle, how I came back from war without so much as a scratch. And then they look at my brother and tell me I am so much stronger than him and… that just proves that they're wrong, because I was never the stronger one, I was always weak." His grip around her hand tightened and he stared at their intertwined fingers. "For a long time, I felt alright. But what if I'm not? What if there's something _wrong _with me and I haven't noticed?"

"Then someone else would have," she replied softly, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "Where does this come from?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I'm afraid somewhere at the back of my head, it's always been there," he muttered. "It's just logical. How could Niklaus come home so broken and I not be affected at all? It must have had an effect on me, and the fact I can't pinpoint it makes it even more terrifying," he added, a slight laugh in his lips.

If she hadn't been watching him so closely, she would have probably not noticed that it sounded a little fake.

"Looks like you got your fair share of paranoia," she said, a false smile on her own lips. "I'd call that an effect, wouldn't you?"

He chuckled, looking at her in an odd way. The next moment he'd gripped her by the shoulders and pressed his lips to hers, almost desperate. His fingers wandered through her hair, over her back, trailing down her neck and over her cheeks. A soft gasp escaped her lips – this was uncharacteristic to say the least, he depended on his self-control and his composure like nothing else and it was almost frightening to watch it slipping through his fingers like that.

"What happened to 'you should get back'?" she muttered breathlessly. "Not that I'm complaining."

A smile twitched around his lips, real this time. He stepped away from her, hands down his pockets. "Quite right. Apologies."

Katerina groaned and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"You're apologising."

He smiled and gently brushed her curls back into place. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, goodbye, then."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll try," she muttered. "We've got extra training, but… I'll get away for half an hour or so."

He nodded, still smiling, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight."

With that, he was gone and Katerina hurried back to school, cursing. Dusk was falling already and she had no idea what time it was – what if she'd be late?

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Just as she had feared, she was running dangerously late – when she hurried into the entrance hall, Hayley, Anna and Rebekah were just coming down the stairs. Katerina hastily adjusted the skirt of her uniform.

"Katerina, where've you been?" Anna asked, frowning at her.

"Oh, I just needed some air," she replied, still panting slightly. "Got a terrible headache, probably the homework."

"Well better hurry, then, Mrs Mikaelson's waiting," Hayley said. "You should probably take care of your hair, it looks a mess."

Rebekah smirked, but thankfully said nothing. Katerina wondered fleetingly why she hadn't told her friends all about it – maybe Rebekah did indeed care for her brothers as much as she always said.

"Sure," Katerina muttered, hurried up the stairs and pulled her hair into a ponytail as she went.

When she skidded into the dancing hall, she was the last of the girls to enter – not for the first time. This was turning into a dangerous habit.

Mrs Mikaelson pierced her with a highly stern look and she swallowed hard. Her secret was growing increasingly heavy on her shoulders.

"Girls, I would like to introduce to you the sons of my dear old friend Guiseppe Salvatore," she called. It was only then that Katerina noticed the two young men standing by the window. They wore casual, expensive clothes, probably very fashionable – though Katerina didn't know much about fashion.

"These are Damon and Stefan Salvatore. They own a theatre at the Broadway in New York and are here to see whether they would like to offer any of you a contract."

One of the two brothers, a blond, gentle-looking young man, watched them almost shyly while his brother eyed them all openly with his light blue eyes, a faint smirk playing around his lips.

"They will attend your daily training and watch you very closely to see if there is anyone who interests them."

Katerina watched the two young men and thought she could tell which of them was the older, the one that Elijah had complained about: there was a distinctly reckless air about Damon Salvatore, about the way he ran his hand through his dark hair. He had that smirk, that mischief in his bright eyes – he clearly shared a great deal of traits with Kol and Niklaus Mikaelson. The fact that this annoyed Elijah almost made her laugh.

"This is a big chance for your future, girls, so I suggest you try hard." Mrs Mikaelson threw them all a sharp glance and smiled faintly. "You may go now."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Well, Kat? What would you say to New York?" Bonnie asked while she forced her comb through her curls.

"Oh please, I'll never be chosen anyways," she scoffed and turned a page of her book.

"Don't say that," Caroline argued. "Mrs Mikaelson named you third best after all. I mean, of course they'll want Rebekah, but she'll never go. And why would she, she's good enough to make it to London."

"What about you then, Care?" Katerina shot back and glanced at her friend over her book. "What would you say?"

Caroline tugged at her nightdress and answered slowly: "I don't think I could do it."

"Why not, you always wanted to travel."

"Well, _travelling _does imply that you're coming back," Caroline replied and sank down on her bed. "And if any of us goes to New York, God knows if she'll ever set foot on British soil again."

Katerina sighed. Caroline was right – if one of the girls left for New York, then she'd leave forever.

Caroline didn't have any reason to want to go; she was good, maybe even good enough to make it to London. And even if she didn't, her mother might have neglected her from time to time, but she was wealthy and would be able to support her daughter if necessary.

Katerina wasn't so lucky.

Suddenly a diffuse fear gripped her – she had never really realised this, but the day she'd finished school, she would practically be standing on the street.

* * *

**_*A/N* _**Well, what do you think? Where is this going to put Kat and Elijah? I hope you were satisfied with Elijah's reaction, there is more to come about how he feels about the whole Kolja thing in the next chapter. In the meanwhile, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story so far and I hope I could surprise you a little there with the Salvatores!


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven – March 1951**

His brothers were up to something. Both Niklaus and Kol eyed him over the dinner table, Niklaus with something like worry in his blue eyes, Kol with his usual spark of measured insanity.

He supposed they had each not noticed that the other was plotting something – neither of them would be prepared to conspire with the other, no matter for what reason.

"What?" he finally barked over the table, turning towards the brother by whom he felt most aggressed.

"Didn't say anything, darling brother," Kol shot back, smirking.

"Then stop looking at me like that," he snarled, feeling his hand tighten around his fork.

His little brother smiled and took a sip from his glass.

"What's that you're drinking, Kol?" Elijah asked sharply, causing Kol to roll his eyes.

Niklaus snatched the glass from his brother's hand, sniffed at the dark liquid and replied matter-of-factly: "Red wine."

"Mother, he's sixteen, don't you think you should have an eye on what he does-"

"Don't you think you should have an eye on what _Elijah _does, mother?" Kol cut him off in a sickly sweet voice. "I mean, when he's, say, mysteriously disappeared in the afternoons and comes back with his shoes full of wet soil and leaves."

"Well, God knows half an hour with you sparks a craving for quiet and oxygen in pretty much everyone," Niklaus replied drily. "Can't blame him for wanting a walk-"

"Well, we all know where you go on your _walks, _brother," Kol shot back, his smirk widening even more.

"You want to compare my sex life to Elijah's, Kol," Niklaus scoffed and emptied his glass, "with all due respect to your childlike innocence, that is quite frankly a little insulting."

"_Niklaus,"_ Elijah said sharply, but neither of his brothers took any notice of him.

"How sweet," Kol scoffed. "Trying to cover up for your big brother. _Always and forever_, right?"

"Would any of you please explain to me what you are talking about?" Esther interrupted finally.

Elijah leaned back in his chair and sighed, trying to calm himself. Somehow he was having a lot more issues with that than he'd used to.

"Kol?" She looked at her youngest son, a brow raised.

"Just trying to lighten the mood, mother," Kol replied with a shrug and grinned at his big brother.

"Well, you're not bloody funny," Elijah gave back tensely, in a tone that resembled Niklaus much more than himself.

"There, there," Kol said, hands raised, "where's my ever-composed brother gone to?"

He just sighed and turned his eyes away, seeking self-control at the bottom of his wine glass.

"Quite right," Niklaus said very softly, too quiet for the others at the table to hear, "where's he gone to?"

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"One more minute and you would've thrown something."

"Nonsense," he replied tiredly. "I've learned that there is really nothing to stop Kol from messing around with all of us."

"Oh come off it, brother," Klaus gave back, pouring himself another glass of scotch. "You're on edge, even I can tell as much."

"Why would I be?"

His brother frowned at him. "Well, you did kill someone, Elijah. With your disposition to morals, the guilt must be eating you up." He paused, eyed his brother sharply and added softly: "Unless of course it isn't."

He stared at his brother, slightly taken aback. "What are you trying to tell me, Niklaus?"

Niklaus sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh and stared into the fire. "You worry me, Elijah," he began slowly. "Things like that never fazed you before, and now… you keep losing your temper, and violently so. You don't even seem sorry-"

"You wouldn't, either," he said, his voice tense. "That man was sick, a pervert little lunatic." His throat was tight, he couldn't breathe. "I didn't… I didn't go there with the intention to kill him, I just wanted to talk to him… she wasn't the only one, there were more, maybe five in total, and he didn't even regret it-"

"So you took his life for it," Klaus said, no inflection whatsoever in his voice. "Is that the kind of justice you believe in?"

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice quiet, shaking a little.

"I don't want anything. It just scares me… watching my big brother falling to pieces," Klaus replied, his blue eyes still fixed on the dancing flames.

"I'm _not _falling to pieces," he said stubbornly, clutching his glass. "That is nonsense."

Klaus looked up at him, that wretched, dreadful smile on his face. "We both know it isn't. Just ask yourself: what triggered this? What was it that shook you so deeply?"

"What do you think, Niklaus? How about two years of war and another five of secrecy, pressure and running after you?"

"You had it under control, Elijah," his brother replied softly. "Then you suddenly cracked. Things like that happen for a reason."

That awful rage was starting to build up inside him again and he poured himself another glass against his better judgement – surely getting drunk would do nothing to better his situation, but he felt like he needed it.

"Since when do you _care, _anyway? What's it to you?" he spat, fixing his younger brother firmly. His hand was shaking slightly.

"You said it yourself, brother," Klaus answered calmly. "You're the one keeping us together. If you go down the same road as I did, then this family is lost."

"Oh, so all of sudden, this family matters to you?" Elijah scoffed. "Consider me pleasantly surprised. What brought the change of mind about?"

"Cynic doesn't suit you," Klaus said flatly.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, if you have anything to say, why don't you just spit it out," he snarled, downing the rest of his glass. The scotch tasted stale.

"Katerina."

"What about her?" he demanded, his voice quiet and cold. _You grow more like father every day, _a little voice in his head whispered and he did his best to ignore it, clutching the empty glass.

"She pushed you over the edge, Elijah-"

"That is _utter rubbish_-"

"Not voluntarily. But she's who lost you your composure and deep down, you know that."

An ice-cold laugh escaped his lips. "Even if that was in any way true, Niklaus, I _would not care._ I love her, I don't know if that expression means anything to you."

"Actually it does, brother," Klaus answered softly. "But remind me, where does it say again that love necessarily does good things to a person?"

"Your company is depressing me, Niklaus," he said after a moment of stunned silence, shaking his head. "I'm going to bed."

"And I'll try to get drunk on what little scotch you left me," his brother answered with a wicked smile and raised his glass to him. "Sleep well, brother."

.

An hour later, he still couldn't sleep – just as his brother had intended, of course. He stood by the window, the lights in his room all turned off to avoid a reflection on the window pane. It wasn't late, not even eleven, and there was still a light shining in a few windows across the forest.

His hands hadn't stopped shaking since the talk with Niklaus.

Even though there were several points that angered him about the situation – the fact that Kol had chosen the exact same evening to try and sell him out to their mother that Niklaus decided to confront him, the fact he'd lost his temper, _twice, _the fact he'd had too much drink for his own good, the fact he hadn't managed to hold his own against his younger brother in the least – the worst thing was that Niklaus was right.

Everything he'd done, every path, every clue, _everything _eventually led to Katerina.

There was nothing else that might have triggered it, and well, he hadn't actually _needed _to retrace his every step since then.

He had initiated a relationship, a _physical _relationship, with a girl that was not only nine years younger and therefore not of age but also clearly traumatised. He hadn't been able to help it, he just hadn't found the strength to resist – he'd done it because he'd _wanted_ her.

He had lied to his mother for what were almost five months now – because he _needed_ her.

He had shoved his brother into their father's bookshelf with such force Niklaus had been in pain when speaking for weeks and had a bruises covering his back that had taken even longer to heal – for her.

He'd let Niklaus break their youngest brother's nose – because secretly, he'd wanted justice for Kol's behaviour towards Katerina.

He'd beaten a complete stranger bloody, kicked him more times than he could count, until he didn't move anymore. And then he had left him to die, in a puddle of his own blood, never looking back – because all he could see was the way she'd come undone in his arms, that never ending pain in her chocolate-coloured eyes.

He had then continued to cover up his sins, lying to his mother, to his friends at university, his sister, Kol and, worst of all, to Katerina_._ Obviously, he feared for his own life, for his family, but more than anything, he was doing it for her. He couldn't lose her that newfound trust.

All for her.

He'd known that. What scared him, though – what was keeping him awake – was something else Niklaus had hinted at.

Would he have to choose between Katerina and his family?

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The next morning, he felt like he'd been physically tortured.

The ridiculously few hours of restless sleep had brought him nothing but nightmares – he couldn't remember them when he woke up, but there was something else on his mind. A memory so clear he couldn't believe it was already twelve years old.

_"__What happened? Why are you this wet?"_

_His siblings stood by the riverside, soaking wet. Rebekah seemed to be crying, Niklaus had an arm around her shoulder._

_"__Bekah fell," he answered, his voice barely understandable since his teeth chattered so badly. "I pulled her out."_

_"__She fell…?" Elijah stammered, rushing to his little sister's side, and wrapped her up in his coat. "I told you to stay away from that bridge, Bekah, I told you!" he snarled, gripping her at the shoulders. _

_"__It was my fault, Elijah," Niklaus said, still shivering. Elijah wrapped his thick scarf around his brother's neck, throwing him a stern look. But when he saw his little brother's blue eyes, full of shock, a little defiance and slight fear – fear of his big brother being angry with him – he felt his features soften and he shook his head._

_"__No. No, it wasn't your fault. It was my fault. I should have watched over you, I should have been here, I…" He rubbed Rebekah's arms to keep her warm. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."_

_He pulled Niklaus closer to his side in an attempt to keep him warm. His little brother winced when he touched his arm and Elijah fixed him with a stern look._

_"__Was this father?"_

_Niklaus didn't say anything and stared at his shoes. Elijah shook him._

_"__Niklaus, tell me. Did father hurt you?"_

_He nodded very slightly, still fixing his shoes. Elijah swallowed and looked at his brave little brother, biting his lip._

_"__Next time you call for me, understood?" he whispered._

_"__I'll help you, too, Nik," Rebekah said suddenly. Niklaus grinned, but the little girl went on, clutching her brothers' hands. "We'll help. We're there for each other, right?"_

_"__We are, Bekah," Niklaus answered, a smile playing around his lips._

_"__Always?" Rebekah asked, looking up at the two of them._

_"__Always," Niklaus replied solemnly._

_Elijah nodded. "Always and forever."_

* * *

"Caroline, Hayley, Katerina?" Mrs Mikaelson called after them. "Would you come into my office for a moment?"

Caroline and Katerina glanced at Bonnie, grimaced, and entered her office.

"Sit," she said, pointing at the three chairs facing her desk. They did as they were told, all squirming uncomfortably, though Hayley clearly did not feel as bad as Caroline and Katerina.

"I'm certain you know what this is about."

"The Salvatores," Hayley answered, nodding.

Mrs Mikaelson smiled. "That's right. They wanted to talk to you themselves, but I wanted you to make the decision for yourselves. They are prepared to offer all three of you a contract. If you chose to take them up on their offer, they would see for your journey to America to be arranged by the middle of April-"

"But then we won't even finish the term," Hayley interrupted her. "We couldn't do our finals."

"We would make an exception and allow you to sit your final exams early so that you wouldn't have to leave without a graduation certificate, Miss Marshall," Mrs Mikaelson explained. "It's inconvenient, but well… You have access to my phone should you wish to call your parents about this, Katerina, you would need their agreement. You have a few weeks to make up your mind. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads, none of them looking very surprised. They'd been expected it.

"Then you may go," she said, but when they were almost out the door, she called: "Oh, Katerina?"

She froze in the doorway, her fingers closing around the doorframe. She swallowed hard before she turned around.

"Yes?"

Mrs Mikaelson scrutinised her with that unreadable expression on her beautiful face. "Is there anything you would like to tell me? Anything I might need to know?"

Katerina stared at her, shocked. Then she forced a light smile on her lips and replied, with her best innocent voice: "No, ma'am. Um… why?"

"Oh, Kol, he… said a few curious things. And you are quite certain?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs Mikaelson nodded and said, no inflection in her voice: "Alright. That's all, then, Katerina."

Hayley stood on the corridor when she left the office, waiting for her. "Well?"

"Oh, just some legal stuff about my parents," Katerina muttered with a shrug, staring at her feet.

Hayley frowned at her. "I meant the offer. Will you accept?"

"I…"

Firm, unusually loud steps on the stone floor interrupted her. "Miss Petrova."

She jumped at the sound of the familiar voice and turned to face the man coming towards them, his hands deep down the pockets of his black coat, the collar turned up against the wind outside. The boots, responsible for the noisy entrance he'd made, looked like they were a remnant of his army uniform. His hair was unkempt and windswept, but there was that trademark flicker of danger in his eyes.

"We need to talk."

Hayley stared at him, then frowned at Katerina, clearly unsure whether she should leave her alone with him.

Katerina swallowed, glancing at him. "Of course," she muttered, throwing Hayley an insecure smile.

Her classmate nodded slowly, threw a last distrustful look in his direction and left.

"If you're looking for Caroline-"

"She's up in her dormitory, doing her homework," he replied, cutting her off. "I don't need you to point me the way. But we've had a little quarrel; I wouldn't want to force my presence upon her for the time being." The little smirk playing around his lips suddenly disappeared, leaving a serious, keen expression in his blue eyes. "No, I came for you, love. Or rather, for my brother."

Katerina frowned at him – Elijah was in London, sitting his final exams. "Why, what happened?"

"Oh, a great deal of things, I take it he didn't tell you… but mostly, I've come to realise something that my brother clearly hasn't yet." He leaned against the wall, piercing her with those sharp bright eyes. "There are only two possibilities the future holds for you, sweetheart."

"I don't see why that's your-"

"_Please _don't interrupt me," he said in a slightly annoyed tone, glancing at the ceiling before returning his gaze to her. "The first possibility is, quite obviously, that you accept the offer my mother has probably just presented to you. Of course, that means you would have to turn your back on Britain, but for that you'd have a regular income and, with a little bit of work, you might get your fair share of fame, too. Should you refuse that offer, however… why, then you would get to stay, but it wouldn't be long before you were left without money and shelter."

She stared at him, completely taken aback. Why did he _care? _Why did her future bother him, why did he even waste time considering her chances? His analytic mind had probably not taken a lot of time to spell out the meaning this offer had for her, but still…

"Unless of course you would subtly hint at that predicament of yours in front of someone wealthy enough to support you. Someone who feels responsible for you, perhaps, that would feel guilty about your dilemma…"

Suddenly she grasped what he was implying and for a moment, she was too appalled for words.

"In short, you would be required to marry rich, a possibility that is more or less within your-"

"Don't you dare," she cut him off, seething with anger. "Don't you _dare_ implying that I had such motives even for a second-"

A shadow of his trademark wolf-like smile flickered across his features. "I'm not here to make reproaches, love. I am worried about my brother's happiness given his disposition to make stupid decisions based on his preposterous morals. I don't care what you may or may not have in mind, but if Elijah reaches the same conclusions as I did, then he might make such an offer and thus ruin both your future."

"Your opinion of him seems to be quite low if you think the wrong wife would be the end of him," she bit back, not sure why she even reacted to his ludicrous accusations in the first place.

Klaus gave a cold barking laugh. "The problem lies not in the choice of his future wife but in the fact that, no matter how unhappy he might be, he would never consider a divorce and therefore be stuck with said wench for all eternity."

She opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off. "You, however, should you find yourself in this position, would end up in a beautifully furnitured townhouse in a nice borough of London, playing the housewife, maybe raising the kids," he added with a condescending laugh, "asking yourself whether your husband loves you or whether he just married you out of his sense for duty. You would begin to ask yourself what he's doing during the day and you would have torn your marriage to pieces before your firstborn finishes primary school."

She stared at the man in front of her, that spark of darkness in his blue eyes, and wondered what really made him do this. Did he take pleasure in watching her suffer? Surely it was not out of worry for Elijah, since when did Klaus care about his brother's happiness? What would he gain through this?

"Who's to say it would end like that?" she asked very softly.

"I say that, love, and I'm usually right," he replied, his husky voice equally quiet. "Regardless of Elijah, though…" He stepped closer, his lips almost touching her ear. She shivered as his hand brushed over her shoulder, her breath caught in her throat.

"Tell me, Katerina… would you really care to have that life… or would you rather dance?"

* * *

_***A/N* **_Now, since I'm trying to at least very loosely follow the original storyline here, Klaus needed to have his part in everything, so I decided to have him do what he does best – meddling, manipulating and scaring people. It got a little out of hand, though… I actually meant to reach a climax in this chapter, but well… more for you, I guess no one's going to be angry with me for that ;) I'm like really proud of Klaus and the little flashback in this one – I am so happy I managed to get "always and forever" into this story, because it is the essence of their relationship.

Now, I hate to be begging, but... If everyone who favourited this story had written three reviews (and this story has had eleven fairly long chapters so far, so that's not really all that much to ask, is it?) I'd have something like sixty-seven reviews now. So please leave a few lines to tell me if you enjoyed it (and what parts you particularaly liked/disliked, etc...)


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve – March 1951**

Two weeks after she'd been offered the job, Katerina barely slept at all. She had called her parents, half-hoping they'd say no, but they had been over the moon. They never even considered that Katerina perhaps didn't _want _to leave –

But did she?

Katerina loved Britain, that much was certain, much more than she'd ever loved Bulgaria. Though she'd come to fear the borough she'd grown up in, she was still very fond of London.

But New York – she had always wanted to see that city, and dancing at the Broadway was of course a huge dream. And she would have a job, she would have money, she wouldn't have to fear for her future.

She would have everything she'd ever dreamt of – well, everything she'd ever dreamt of half a year ago.

But now… was it wrong to want more? Everybody else would obviously say so. Refusing such an offer, staying just for some puppy love – it was madness, it was silly and it was exactly the behaviour that Katerina had always mocked.

Besides, if she could be certain that she would be supported, things would have looked different. But when it all came down, she had no one. Her parents were more than happy they didn't have to take care of her anymore, Caroline couldn't help either nor would the school foster her.

And Elijah? Well, for now, he was in London, probably celebrating and getting drunk on expensive champagne. And perhaps Klaus had been right – not about her intentions, but about how things would end. One thing was sure, anyway: if she stayed with him, she would eventually have to give up the dancing. He would go to London and Katerina wasn't good enough for the Royal Ballet – they'd never accept her.

Besides, there was still this nagging doubt at the back of her mind. They were still hiding everything from his mother and the rest of the school… if he really loved her, he wouldn't care if everyone knew, would he?

But again, Klaus was right – Elijah would feel guilty about her predicament. Perhaps he would marry her, _especially_ if he didn't love her. Out of responsibility. Out of guilt. Out of _pity. _

They would both be dreadfully unhappy and far too proud to change a thing about it. It would be a living hell.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

It was well past midnight and Katerina stood at the open window in the corridor, shivering slightly in the breeze despite the old cardigan over her nightgown.

"Kat?" came a soft voice from behind her. "You do know you'll be killed when Miss Sommers finds you here?"

"Yeah," she muttered without taking her eyes off the dark forest outside. "I know. I just needed to think."

"And why exactly do you need to freeze to death for that?" Caroline demanded and stood beside her, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"It clears my head," she said defiantly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"New York?"

"Yes, amongst other things," she replied softly. "I don't know what to do, Care. I just don't know."

Caroline glanced at her. "Do you want to go?"

"That doesn't matter," she said tonelessly. "I have to go, it's the best for all of us."

"You don't have to, Kat. That's rubbish, who told you that?"

Katerina watched her friend out of the corner of her eye, then shrugged and replied: "No one."

"I don't want you to leave, if that's any help," Caroline muttered and watched the trees outside.

"Care, did you talk to him?"

"Who?"

"Klaus, who else?"

"Why would I have to talk to him?"

Katerina shrugged. "He mentioned you'd had a fight."

Caroline frowned at her friend. "Since when does it bother _you _if I have a fight with Klaus? Seriously, I thought you hated him."

Katerina shook her head. "I don't _hate _him, I just don't _like _him. And he scares me. Point is he seemed better with you. You seemed better. Elijah, too. Even Mrs Mikaelson."

"Mrs Mikaelson? That is wishful thinking," Caroline scoffed, a ghost of a grin on her face.

"He loves you, Care," she muttered. "You said it yourself, he's broken. Give him a chance."

"I know he does," Caroline replied, grinning.

"Well then, don't lose that. Talk to him."

Her friend smiled, shaking her head. "What's got into you, Kat?"

She just shrugged and closed the window, smiling to herself. "Don't know. I feel selfless tonight."

* * *

"You coming, brother?"

"Coming?" Elijah repeated, slightly confused, and looked up from his newspaper.

"The meeting with the Salvatores."

"I've seen enough of Damon Salvatore to last me another few weeks, thank you," he muttered and returned to his article.

Niklaus sighed audibly. "Well, mother insists, so get your arse off that chair-"

"_Language, _Niklaus," he cut him off sharply without taking his eyes off the paper.

"_Please, _brother, don't try, it's too late for that," his brother drawled and took the newspaper from him with a flourish.

"I thought this meeting was about the dancers for New York, I don't see what I should be doing there-"

"Oh, I think you have reason enough to be there, Elijah," said his mother. Esther stood in the doorway, in a perfectly fitted dress and her false smile, giving him a cold look.

"Do I?" he gave back, more out of annoyance than actually hoping to convince her – she knew, obviously. He couldn't help suspecting Kol.

"I do not appreciate it if my children lie to me," she answered in a tired, quiet voice.

"Then maybe you shouldn't make telling you the truth so hard, mother," he replied equally quiet and took a last sip of his tea.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

For reasons he could not quite fathom, they had gathered in his mother's study at the school – a perfect replica of their father's, except for the fact it was a little larger and instead of all the books on economics, stock trading and hunting, her shelves were covered with account books.

His mother sat behind her desk, the Salvatore brothers by her side. Katerina, Caroline and a third girl, Hayley if he wasn't mistaken, stood in front of the desk, all three looking rather anxious.

He and Niklaus leaned against the wall next to the window, a little forlorn, which was just what they were since there wasn't much point in them being there in the first place.

Not for the first time since they'd made their way over to the school, Elijah wondered if his mother was trying to punish him for lying to her. Katerina was sure enough avoiding his gaze and her good evening when they'd entered the room had been frosty to say the least. He didn't quite understand why _she _would be so distant – sure, they'd been separated for almost two months, but he was the one who'd been awake for nights on end, trying to ignore the nagging voice in his head telling him he should have never got involved in this.

That he was indeed spiralling downwards, that, should he not let her go very soon, he might be forever lost.

That he might end up just like his brother.

Yet it was him seeking her gaze and her who fixed her eyes on his mother's polished oak desk.

"Well, girls, Damon, Stefan," his mother began, and though he could not see her face he was certain she'd put up that dreadful smile again. "I gave you plenty of time to consider the offer."

The room had gone uncomfortably quiet. Elijah felt his brother shift his weight from one foot to the other nervously. He felt tense for no reason – this was not about him, now was it?

Besides, tempting as it was, he couldn't picture a single of the three girls accepting. They were British, after all, and they were hardly of age – leaving for New York would in a twisted way equal going to war: they would board a ship that carried them away from the country where they'd grown up, and chances were they would be dead before they had any opportunity to return.

Niklaus had done it. He'd been their age when he had volunteered – and well, everyone knew how _that _had turned out.

Looking back, perhaps that was why he was so convinced they would all decline – having seen what such a decision could take from someone, he simply could not believe that anyone would voluntarily take that step.

"Miss Marshall?" Esther asked, her voice without inflection.

The third girl took a deep breath and smiled at the Salvatores. "It's an amazing prospect, New York, it really is…" She pushed a wisp of hair out of her face and added quietly: "But I'm afraid I'm not ready to leave England yet. There are some… personal things that I need to find out first."

From his position, he could not see the reaction on the brothers' faces, he just heard his mother going on:

"Miss Forbes?"

Caroline looked very tense and he was fairly sure his brother was holding his breath. With a jolt of surprise he realised that Niklaus actually seemed to fear she might leave.

"It's a great chance," she began softly, looking at the Salvatores. Then, her eyes wandered to someone else, and after a moment, she gave an almost imperceptible nod and went on:

"I feel like I'm needed elsewhere, though, and as much of an honour it would be, I don't think I could turn my back on England and on everything that I have here."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a faint smile play around his brother's lips, an actual smile – he was forgiven, for whatever it was that he'd done.

Silence fell once more and suddenly, his heart was beating in his chest as if attempting to run away. There was something about Katerina's expression that frightened him, some kind of grim resolve.

He'd never seen her brown eyes look so… empty.

"Miss Petrova?"

_You need to let her go, _whispered that highly unwelcome voice in his head, _you need to let go and this is as good a reason as you'll ever get._

Inexplicably, he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder.

Katerina smiled, but it didn't look real to him. He felt a sudden desire to grab her by the shoulders and demand what was _wrong_ with her.

"I would love to dance in New York," she said quietly and then, for the fraction of a second, she looked up and met his eyes. Chocolate brown shimmered between the long dark lashes and for some reason she looked _sorry_, there was emotion in them quite similar to what he felt –

She tore her eyes away, took another breath and before she had any opportunity to finish her sentence, Niklaus's fingers closed around his shoulder – as if he had known what would come.

"I will gladly accept your offer."

* * *

**_*A/N* _**Phew, I got it over with. Thank God, that chapter took me ages… I really hope I got you a little there at the end ;) Huge thanks again to everyone who reviewed! It's always good to hear the effort that the writing of all this takes is being appreciated and I hope you liked this chapter as well!


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen – April 1951**

"Have you ever experienced something so profoundly wonderful that when it was taken from you your life felt unbearable? […] I believe that when you love someone and that person loves you in return you're uniquely vulnerable. They have a power to hurt you that's like nothing else."  
-_Elijah Mikaelson in "Après Moi, le Deluge", The Originals_

* * *

_The feeling was there before he opened his eyes, before he was even aware of the fact he was awake. And as much as he prided himself on his eloquent word choice, on his ability to describe more or less anything he saw, heard or felt in a comprehensive way and in multiple languages – for this he could hardly find an appropriate term._

_Was it dread?_

_Was it sorrow?_

_Was it some kind of advance homesickness?_

_He couldn't tell. All he knew was that it was certainly not a good feeling – in fact he felt about ready to choke on it, as if his heart had swollen to twice its normal size and got stuck in his throat somehow._

_It took an incredible lot of effort to open his eyes, for as long as they were shut, he could pretend he was still asleep. And if he was still asleep, he could not get up, and if he could not get up, he could not leave. And if he could not leave, he obviously could not die._

_So as long as he was asleep, they were all safe, weren't they?_

_In this moment, he didn't know why he had put his name on that goddamned list in the first place – he was in no way suited for this, and he was all but enthusiastic about it all._

Defend your country_, they said. _Be brave for your people.

For King and Country, young man.

_Well, in peace times they were all patriots. But Elijah had never been brave, Niklaus had always been the brave one, even Rebekah was far more courageous than he had ever been._

_And deep down, he thought King and Country could go to hell for all he cared._

Avenge your loved ones, _they said. _Blood for blood. Make them pay.

Send 'em fucking Germans right back to hell where they came from.

_They were all so determined to believe it, and he had not dared to ruin their mood, knowing men like this were the reason the Germans were losing… but in the end, he wondered whether they really could not see the truth:_

_No matter how many pints of the enemy's blood they shed, it would not bring a single of their lost ones back to life._

_His fingers clenched around the pillow._

For King and Country, _he thought sourly. _For honour. For your family if nothing else. Get your sorry arse out of here.

_He slowly crawled out of the warm safety of his bed, one last time, stared at the suitcase that stood next to the door, waiting for departure._

_He wanted to cry, but he didn't. Instead, he put on the uniform that felt wrong and strange on him, with slow, deliberate movements. For a moment he stared at his reflection in the mirror, thinking he looked a right clown and just like all those light-headed idiots that he'd watched in town._

_Then he picked up the suitcase, straightened the jacket and left the room._

**.**

~ö~ö~ö~

.

It was that fateful morning that he thought of as he stood in front of the mirror, taking an eternity and a half to shave. He'd really learned nothing since then – there was no way to delay such things.

Almost six years had passed, but he remembered it as if it had been just yesterday. He'd felt just as miserable, just as sick, just as incapable to do what he had to as he did now.

The afternoon that had followed the meeting in his mother's study was just as present, much to his chagrin – but he'd never been good at forgetting the nasty bits.

.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, staring at her feet. They were sitting on "their" wall in the forest, but though they sat just as close as they usually did, he had the feeling they were miles apart. He wasn't sure who of them was responsible for that distance, though he knew he probably had his part in it – he felt oddly numb, almost as if he was in shock, and he'd hardly said a word since they'd met in the forest. He hadn't kissed her, though he'd wanted to –

"Sorry?" he repeated softly. "This was your dream, Katerina. You've been at this school for _seven and a half years, _you've worked so hard…" He shook his head, looking at her for the first time that day. "Why should you want to apologise? Your hard work paid off."

He could almost feel the distance between them growing at his words. He hated to say them, but it was what he needed to do – she'd made her decision. He needed to accept it and she needed to believe that he accepted it.

"Because… because I'm just leaving," she replied quietly, looking right at him this time. "Just like that and… I guess I should have told you beforehand. Care's furious with me, too."

He looked at her for a moment, taking in her pretty face, her skin almost the shade of porcelain now after the dark winter, the big eyes, brown like chocolate, the full soft lips. For what felt like the millionth time, he was grateful for his spotless composure – he'd worked hard for it, and right now it took all he had to hide what he truly felt.

He forced a smile on his lips, knowing it would look convincing.

"It's your decision; none of us should have any part in it. It wouldn't be right," he answered.

Her eyes seemed to cool down another ten degrees, but then she laughed a little. "You're not gonna hold me back?"

_Good God, if you had any idea how much I'd love to – _

"If it's what you want, darling, then who am I to keep you from it?" he replied instead, relieved to hear his voice sounded calm and honest.

For a moment, he thought he could spot a tear shimmering in her brown eyes, but then she smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Thanks, Elijah."

There was an odd touch to her voice, it sounded hollow, but he couldn't find the strength to ponder about it. Now the realisation hit him full force – once she was gone, he would probably never see her again.

He was glad she had already turned to leave.

He didn't want anyone to see him cry.

.

He flinched as the razorblade drew blood. He cursed, dropped the razor into the sink and pressed his hand to the cut, begrudgingly fascinated by the scarlet liquid welling out between his fingers.

Images flashed in front of his eyes at the familiar sight, so much blood, such anger and such _fear…_

Angrily, he tore his eyes away, wiped the blood off and finished his shave.

.

He had hoped to slip out before his mother returned, but _of course _she came in before he'd even put on his shoes. She eyed him critically from head to foot, her eyes resting on the car keys in his hand.

"I don't think that's appropriate, Elijah," she said quietly. "She ought to take the train-"

"Don't be ridiculous, mother," he gave back in a cold voice. "I'll drive her. It's the least I can do."

Esther scrutinised him once more, her sharp eyes seemed to look right through him just as they always had when he was a little boy. "Don't hold her back," she said, her voice cold and firm.

"I wish I had that possibility," he scoffed, shaking his head and searched the drawers for his briefcase and the wretched driving license that he had a habit to "misplace", trying to avoid the damn car.

"Don't be so accusing, Elijah," his mother scolded, still in the same tone. "You got yourself into this mess all by yourself."

"I didn't _chose _to, mother," he replied irritably and pocketed his papers.

"Of course you did. I expected better of you."

"_Better?" _he repeated disbelievingly, frowning at her. "For Heaven's sake, mother, there is no need to talk to me like I had done something condemnable-"

"Well, I honestly don't know what else to call it, taking advantage of a girl your sister's –"

"_Take that back_," he said sharply, shocked himself at how cold his voice was. "You take that back. How dare you accusing me of such things – you might have forgotten, mother, but after everything that happened, even now – _I am still your son._"

If she was surprised by his reaction, she did not show it, merely raised a perfectly plucked brow at him and asked: "Well, if it was not what I think it was, then what was it?"

His fingers closed firmly around the car keys, clutching them tighter and tighter until it hurt. He shook his head at his mother, then replied somewhere between resignation and defiance:

"I fell in love, is that so hard to believe?"

An odd expression flashed across his mother's beautiful features, a deep-seated, old sadness, a trace of disappointment, bordering on self-abhorrence. For a second he thought he'd seen tears glistening in her brown eyes.

"You?" she asked, her voice suddenly slightly hoarse. "Yes, it is."

He looked at her for a moment, stunned silent, then turned away from her and walked out of the door without another word.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

He didn't get out of the car to open the door for her, though he knew he should – knew it was rude not to. He didn't know why he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe it was the image of his own mother realising she'd lost her faith in her own son and his ability to _feel_, perhaps just the idea of her fragile figure brushing past him.

Either way, all he did was stare ahead through the windshield, motor running, he didn't even turn to see whether or not she was coming.

The car boot was opened and closed, then she slid into the passenger seat. "You didn't have to do that for me."

"I _know, _why does everybody keep telling me that?" he muttered and put his foot down, pulling out of the driveway much too fast. "Are the Salvatores going with you?"

"No, they've gone back to New York two weeks ago," she replied and Elijah scoffed.

_Typical. This was just so typical._

"What?"

"Does nobody, neither your parents nor your future bosses nor my mother, who is responsible for you, notice the fact that you are going to be _alone _on that ship for days on end? Doesn't that bother you, Katerina? That you are in danger?" he demanded, his voice more harsh than he'd meant for it to sound.

Katerina frowned at him and gave a disbelieving little laugh. "You really don't trust me at all, do you? I'm not _weak, _I can take care of myself. I did survive without you for seventeen years."

"You misunderstand me, Katerina," he replied irritably, still going too fast. "I do not doubt your ability to take care of yourself, I am merely pointing out the fact that you and God knows what kind of creatures are going to be packed like sardines in a tin with nowhere to run to. If that prospect does not scare you then I fear for your survival instinct." After a moment of hesitation, he added through gritted teeth:

"Open the glove compartment."

Her frown deepened at the tone of his voice, then she did as she was told.

"There should be a knife in there."

"So what?" she asked irritably and he wondered at what point everything had turned so cold between them.

"If it fits into your pocket, I want you to keep it," he muttered, staring out of the windshield.

She turned the knife in her hands, ran her thumb over the blade, then shook her head. "It's yours, I don't want it."

"I don't set my heart on weapons, Katerina, and it's not like this was some kind of sentimental parting gift. I said _keep it_."

Her beautiful eyes flashed angrily in his direction. She shoved the knife into her pocket and said: "I'll think of you if I have to stab someone with it, Elijah."

Her voice was acid, and her words hurt. Dear Lord, he hadn't expected her to be able to hurt him like that.

He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and tried to concentrate on the driving.

Suddenly he realised they were both punishing him with this – why she was so angry with him, he had no idea, but he was certainly doing it to chastise himself for his never ending cowardice.

And for the fact that he was hurting her – _her, _the one person he wanted to hurt least of all in the world – trying to protect his family.

God knew it was always about his family.

Either way, he'd come to the conclusion that Niklaus was not entirely right: it was not that Katerina was bad for him.

The problem lay in the fact that he was essentially a bad person, and falling in love had dragged all those things he kept buried so deeply back to the surface. _He_ was the problem. Right now in the icy silence between them it was so obvious: He wasn't good for her, he would do nothing but hurt her. Katerina deserved so much better.

Yes, leaving her hurt and once she was gone, he would certainly feel her absence like a physical injury.

Yes, he wanted nothing more than to make her stay.

Yes, he wanted to be with her, no matter what it did to him.

Yes, he wanted to be selfish and wanted to keep her with him, forever if he could, regardless of what it might do to her. And there always was this little voice in the back of his head, that selfish little thing that kept asking: _You want nothing but to make her happy, so who is to say she would not be?_

But he couldn't. He just couldn't, for the sake of his own sanity, his budding career; for the sake of his family that would never stop needing him; and for her sake, too. She was better off without him and he had to let her go.

It was the right thing to do.

And that was what people expected him to do, what he expected himself to do, wasn't it? It was what he claimed for himself: that he did what was right, regardless of his own wishes.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

They arrived in Southampton after what felt like a few hundred years in his father's cursed car, much too close and much too far apart at the same time. He drew a desperate breath of the mild air that tasted of salt, fish and gasoline.

Heavy clouds were forming over the grey sea that sparkled in the last rays of sunlight, screeching birds were circling over the surface.

Katerina got out of the car, took two attempts to close the heavy door, and stepped closer to the edge of the parking lot, taking in the scene in front of her with wide eyes.

For the first time since she had decided to leave, he felt that familiar surge of warmth at the sight of her and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, taking another deep breath. Then he opened the boot and, after a fleeting look at Katerina who was still admiring the view, he shoved two small objects into her suitcase.

When he lifted it out for her, he almost laughed – there had honestly been no need for him to do it, it was so ridiculously light that he couldn't help wondering if she was taking anything with her at all.

"Thank you, I can find my way from here," she muttered and reached for the suitcase, her fingertips brushing over his hand. The touch gave them both a start and for a moment, she looked up at him, the hostility gone from her eyes.

She looked so lost there in her old coat and her curls dancing in the breeze and his heart broke a little more.

"I've got time," he replied softly, a shaky smile on his lips, and abruptly turned away from her, busying himself with locking the car.

He had expected her to argue, but she didn't. They walked side by side, close enough to touch if they'd wanted to, and neither of them said a word.

He wanted to, desperately so, but somehow the English language had eluded him completely.

_Reste là. Je ne veux pas que tu partes, je ne peux pas le supporter, s'il te plaît, je t'en prie, ne pars pas, reste là, reste avec moi, je ferais tout ce que tu veux, s'il te plaît…_

Before he knew it, they'd arrived at the pier. When she turned to face him, it hit him that she looked scared.

_Tu ne dois pas le faire, Katerina. Tu peux rester ici, avec moi, n'aie pas peur, je vais t'aider…_

Her dark eyes wandered over his face, as if she was scared she might forget what it looked like, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and keep her from leaving. Again, his eyes were stinging and he blinked away the tears.

_Geh nicht, bitte geh nicht, das kannst du nicht wollen. Bleib hier, du musst das nicht tun, ich kann dir helfen, ich tue alles, was du willst, Katerina, bitte…_

If only her eyes would let go of him, he would be able to go before he said something stupid, before his mind spelled out what he wanted to say so badly in a language she could understand. He had to go – _he had to – _right now, but her dark eyes held him.

_Ich will nicht, dass du gehst. Ich ertrage es nicht, bitte…_

She stared at him, visibly unsure what to say. Then she placed her fingers over his around the handle of the battered suitcase and said, her voice barely audible over the screeching of the gulls:

"Thank you for driving me."

_Reste ici, pour moi, j'ai besoin de toi…_

"It was my pleasure," he replied, his voice a little hoarse, and tried to smile but this time failed miserably.

_Bitte bleib hier, für mich, ich brauche dich…_

She bit her lip, a hundred contradicting emotions flashing in her eyes, and after a moment of hesitation she added in an even quieter voice: "I'm sorry."

His throat felt tight. "I'm sorry, too," he replied and didn't even know what she was referring to. Hell, he wasn't sure if he knew what _he _was referring to, but he _was _sorry. He was so, so sorry.

"Goodbye, Elijah," she muttered finally and wanted to leave, but he pulled her closer, feeling like he was drowning, and kissed her.

It was their first kiss in a month. One of them was crying and he couldn't tell who, the screeching of the seabirds made his head spin and his fingers caressed her face, tangled in her silky hair and held on to her for dear life. He didn't want to let go, he couldn't – the moment he let go, she would leave, and then what would become of him?

_Je t'aime, tu ne peux pas partir parce que je t'aime… _

The first raindrops splashed on the concrete, but neither of them took any notice of them.

_Ich liebe dich, du kannst nicht einfach gehen weil ich dich liebe … _

Much to his surprise, she didn't pull away, didn't just freeze – her hands gripped his jacket and pulled him closer, and it almost felt as if she didn't want to let go, either.

But in the end, that was probably wishful thinking.

.

But eventually, he found the strength that had almost left him, all that sense he prided himself on, and let go of her.

It was better that way.

A hand still buried in her hair, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped away from her. He caught a last glimpse of that chocolate brown and when he smiled, he almost meant it.

"Goodbye, Katerina."

By now, it was raining heavily, everyone around them had quickened their steps, but they just stood there, eyes locked, searching for words.

It could have lasted hours for all he knew.

Then she returned his smile. It was shy and a little sad and it reminded him far too much of the Lockwood's ball. She bent down to pick up her suitcase and walked away with slow steps, apparently oblivious to the driving rain.

Suddenly the words were all there as he watched her walk away from him, now that she was already too far away to hear them.

_Please don't leave._

_Please don't leave, I don't want you to go._

_Please don't leave, I never told you, but I love you._

He closed his eyes for moment, took a deep breath, then he turned and made his way back to the car. He didn't look back.

* * *

She stood outside on the deck for what were probably several hours, her clothes completely drenched, allowing the rain to soak her hair and her shoes until she finally couldn't tell the difference between her tears and the rain anymore. Katerina watched the British Isles fade away through the silvery veil of the driving rain, longingly staring after those lands that had become her home.

But she had to start over; it was the only way she could go on, the only way to do what she did best – survive. So she returned to her cabin where she stopped in front of the mirror, put up her hair and tasted the new name on her lips. Though familiar, it had a strange sound to it, but she _liked _that name. She opened her suitcase to change into some dry clothes and her heart almost stopped when she found two things lying on top that had definitely not been there when she'd packed it.

The first was a small box, a grey, nondescript little thing. Inside she found a frail silver bracelet set with a deep blue stone. It shimmered softly in the light.

The other was a book. It was in quite a dreadful state, worn down with crumpled edges. She didn't need the name and the date written on the inside of the cover with pencil to know who it belonged to or what it meant to its owner.

_"__You should see the book I took with me to war, it's all but falling apart now but I can't bring myself to part from it."_

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to understand this gesture – this was by far one of his most prized possessions and now he was just giving it to her, knowing he would never get it back.

There was a note on the first page, hurriedly scrawled across the cheap paper, the black ink smudged in places – suddenly she remembered the black stains on his left hand and realised he must have written it moments before their departure. There was no appellation, no pet names, no _lots of love, _not even a signature – they had never been that kind of lovers.

_I have told you repeatedly and you never believed me, but now you'll have to – I am a pathetic coward. There are a lot of things that I wish you knew, but I know I won't be able to bring myself to say them and writing them down here instead would be an even greater cowardice, so –_

_I wish you all the best and I hope you'll be happy. I'll have you know that I'll miss you terribly – but let's not do this to ourselves._

_Good luck, Katerina._

* * *

_***Author's Note* **_Again, this turned into a little monster – I just couldn't resist giving Esther and Elijah a moment, I quite like how it turned out, actually. Please tell me what you think of this chapter, it's obviously quite an important one! A big thanks to everyone who's reviewed the last chapter!  
To the guest reviewer: I agree, my summary is awful, but it's all I could manage I'm afraid. As to more Klaroline, however, this is a Kalijah story and if you would like to read a Klaroline one, I suggest you try another story. I can't just change the main plot of a story that I've started, it doesn't work like that.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen – January 1957**

An icy wind blew across the graveyard and a few mourners lost their hats. Elijah supressed a smile as he watched his idiot cousin chase after his bowler hat between the gravestones.

He glanced at the woman next to him and watched her wipe the tears off her cheeks.

"Please don't misunderstand me now, but… I never had the feeling you and her got on very well," he said carefully.

She threw him a small smile. "No, I just… it's just depressing to think these will come in handy again so soon," she muttered and gestured at her funeral clothes.

Elijah sighed and placed a hand on her arm, cautiously watching as distant family members trailed past the grave, dabbing false tears off their cheeks and laying down flowers.

Kol stood in front of the grave, motionless, his wife gripping his arm. Martha eyed her husband worriedly and Elijah thought that perhaps his opinion of her needed slight altering. She wasn't exactly nice, the fact she'd got on wonderfully with Esther Mikaelson and the fact Klaus called her "the ice queen" probably spoke for themselves. But she was visibly concerned about her husband and he was starting to wonder whether she really had married him for love and not for love of his money.

"Mummy, can we go home?" came a quiet voice from behind them.

"In a moment, sweetheart, when everyone's said goodbye to your grandmother," his sister-in-law said, bent down and lifted the little girl into her arms. Her blond hair was neatly braided and her stormy blue eyes darted back to the grave.

"She's been a good girl," said his brother, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder and stroked his daughter's cheek. "Take her back, love," he added softly. "Get some rest and get poor Hope out of these dreadful clothes."

The little girl beamed at her father. "Thank you, Daddy."

Elijah chuckled at his niece and shook his head. "Be careful, Caroline, she'll end up just like him."

"I'm afraid she will, yes," Caroline muttered with a faint smile, put a hand on Klaus's arm and said softly: "I'll give you a moment."

Klaus turned up his collar against the cold wind and stood beside him in silence for a while, then suddenly asked very quietly:

"Do you think she would have ever forgiven me, Elijah?"

He turned towards his brother, slightly shocked by his words. "What?"

"For what I did to father, do you think she would have ever forgiven me?"

"Probably," he replied slowly. "You're her son, I do not think she had it in her to hate you."

"Did Kol talk to you?" Klaus asked after a while, clearly uncomfortable with the subject he had brought up. "I tried to talk to him, but he chose to act like my four year-old daughter and pretend I didn't exist."

"Don't blame him, Niklaus. He's grieving. And he is angry because he believes we are not as sad as he is about her passing."

Klaus shrugged. "Well, he's being a bloody child if you ask me… I've spoken to Bekah's lover, too."

"_Spoken_?" Elijah repeated, brow raised. "_Please_ tell me you did not make a scene at our mother's funeral."

His brother smirked. "Define 'make a scene'."

"This isn't funny," he bit back and ran a hand over his face. Good Lord, he was so tired… "What did you do?"

"Told him in detail I wouldn't hesitate to rip his head off if I ever saw my baby sister shed a single tear over him, I think that is well within my rights, but then again you're the lawyer."

"Did anybody hear you?"

Klaus scoffed and nodded towards the grave. "Please, they were all busy mourning our darling mother and trying to determine what she might have left them."

He rolled his eyes and put his hands down his pockets, a faint smile tugging at his lips against his will. "Maybe I should have a word with him as well. Make sure he got the message."

Klaus smiled. "Caroline's cooking dinner, so please don't be late. She'll blame me, she always does."

"Because it usually is your fault," he gave back and scanned the crowd for his sister.

He couldn't exactly congratulate her on her decision to bring Mr Marcel Gerard with her to the funeral – not that he was inclined to judge, but he was of African American origin and their late mother had been a little racist in that regard. She would certainly not have approved of him.

"Bekah," he said softly, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Will you be there at the dinner? Caroline would be delighted if you could make it."

"I'll be there, but Marcel has to get back tonight," she replied softly.

"I'll take you back. Just wait by the car for a moment, I need a word with Mr Gerard."

"Elijah, please," she groaned, throwing him a pained look, but he cut her off.

"Don't worry," he muttered with a slight smile in the young man's direction. "I'm the civil one. Wait by the car, I won't be long."

Then he turned to his sister's boyfriend. "Listen to me, Mr Gerard. What my brother just tried to tell you in his own, uncivilised way was that, should your intentions defer in the _slightest _from being perfectly honourable, then I advise you to stay well clear of our little sister. Because if you hurt her, I'm afraid my brother will rip you to pieces and," he took another step towards the young man, "if Niklaus doesn't, rest assured I will. I won't let any more harm come upon my family, whatever the cost of that."

"You know, Rebekah said you two'd be scary, but seriously, don't you think you're taking it too far?" the other gave back and Elijah grudgingly acknowledged that he didn't look as scared as most people would have.

"Had you had the childhood we've had, you would understand. I vowed to protect my siblings and that is exactly what I'll do, so believe me, I will keep my word." He smiled at the young man and patted his shoulder. "Have a save journey back to London."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Third glass and counting. Whatever happened to my sweet little sister?"

Rebekah rolled her eyes at him over her glass of gin. "I grew up."

"Oh, don't do that, Bekah," Klaus quipped in with a grin.

"Really, Caroline, how do you stand these two?" Rebekah asked, a pained expression on her beautiful features.

"Well, I mostly have only one of them to deal with," Caroline replied with a smile. "Though he's quite the handful, and that's not counting Hope."

"Like father, like daughter, right?" Rebekah turned to her other brother with a smirk. "You know, if I didn't _know _you were working in London, I wouldn't believe it. I see more of Nik than of you. What is it that you _do _all the time, Elijah?"

"He can't have that much private life left when he keeps volunteering to take care of Hope and Henry," Caroline interrupted.

"He doesn't have a private life at all, sweetheart," Klaus replied sardonically. "My brother considers himself married to his work and the occasional glass of scotch. You did notice that you turned thirty-two last year, Elijah, I mean, doesn't a man your age have _needs_?"

"I won't sleep with a random woman just to humour you, Niklaus," he replied in a tired voice.

"You mean you won't _keep _sleeping with your secretary, brother dearest," his brother gave back with a smirk. Elijah groaned.

"Oh, for God's sake, will you stop going on about this? I feel like a walking cliché without your help."

Klaus laughed. "Well, that's just you and your bleeding morals, Elijah. I bet every lawyer on the premises fucks their secretary and never thinks twice about it-"

"I sincerely hope that this is not how you talk in front of your children, Niklaus Mikaelson," Caroline said in a dangerously calm voice.

"Don't you want them to understand what people on the street are saying, love?" he asked with a grin, but when his wife threw him a dark look, his expression softened. He placed a hand on her shoulder and said, his voice gentle now:

"I wouldn't, Caroline. Believe me, I wouldn't."

"I'm not so sure about that," she muttered, shaking her head. "And seriously, give him a break."

"Thank you, Caroline," Elijah muttered, throwing her a pained smile.

"What's that I have to hear, Elijah?" Rebekah asked, smirking. "Do I know her?"

"No, you don't," he snapped, refilling his glass. "Office's Christmas party, to add to the cliché. We were both fairly drunk when it happened, we agreed it was a mistake and we would try to _forget it_." He threw his brother a pointed glance.

"Like I would let you, brother," Klaus shot back with a smirk. "You should have never told me."

"That's right, I shouldn't have," he muttered and shook his head. "Anyway, what about you, Bekah? How's London treating you?"

"Good as always," Rebekah replied with a smile.

"Well, should it ever not – just remember that you have two murderous older brothers just a phone call away, Bekah," Klaus added in all seriousness, threw his brother a conspiring smile and got to his feet, announcing he would get another bottle of wine.

.

He was about to go to bed, exhausted from the funeral and the wine, when he heard Rebekah's voice across the corridor. He froze with his hand on the door handle, unsure whether or not he should intrude – he certainly didn't want to, because he knew how nasty fights between his siblings could get.

"What about me, Nik? What about _me? _I've always been there for you, Nik, no matter what you did. I was always there, it's always been me – not Finn, not Kol, not Elijah, _me!_ I loved you, through everything. And you don't even care, I can't ask you for a single thing in return-"

"Bekah, you can't understand what Elijah did-"

"I can't understand what Elijah did for you? _You _don't understand what he did for you!"

Elijah frowned, his hand slid off the door handle. However did they get to argue about _him_? He was _fine. _

"I can't follow, sweet sister…"

"When you came back from the war, you were furious, hurt, aggressive, insanely miserable and halfway crazy, both of you. And while you let those feelings consume you, he shut it all off so he could keep this family together. He never dealt with his own demons just so he could help you fight yours, he denied himself every chance of healing, for you. And when he finally allowed himself to feel something again, it all came rushing back and he couldn't deal with it for a moment. You punished him for that one moment of weakness, Nik, and that he can't forgive you. Who could blame him?"

For a moment he was shocked – he could not believe that his little sister, who was nine years his junior, had understood their situation so well. He had worked so hard to hide everything inside him from his family and it pained him to realise it that had been no use at all.

"See, I know everything that you two have done, every last terrible thing, and I loved you enough to forgive you everytime. Not that either of you would have ever cared or even just trusted me enough to tell me anything…" Rebekah broke off, then after a moment went on in a much quieter, slightly hollow voice: "Anyway, I have to get back to London. Give my love to Hope and Henry, would you?"

"Bekah, you can't go back now, it's the middle of the night-"

"Nonsense, I know how to drive a car, no matter what time it is. Where's Elijah, I want to say goodbye."

He took a deep breath, pushed the door open and said softly: "I'm here, Bekah."

She looked at him, a little shocked when she realised how much he might have heard, then forced a smile on her lips and hugged him. "You are meeting me on Wednesday for lunch, brother, no excuses. It can't be that we're working in the same city and never get to see each other."

"Fine, why not," he muttered and buried his nose in her hair for a second. He missed having her around.

It was not that no one in the house took any notice of him, the point was just that Niklaus and Caroline were married, they were a family, and as much as they tried to include him, he was lonely.

And thinking that all that he had was his father's Bentley, that car that he hated so much, and his work, was quite depressing.

He let go of his sister and smiled at her. "See you on Wednesday, then, Bekah. And you're sure you really want to go now?"

"_Yes. _Will you two ever stop treating me like a little girl?"

Elijah glanced at his brother, who grinned at him and replied: "Never, Bekah. You'll just have to live with it."

Rebekah sighed, but a smile fought on her lips. "My idiot brothers."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

His alarm clock went off at six sharp; he got out of bed and staggered over the dark corridor. His fingers found the light switch; he splashed some cold water in his face and threw his reflection a smile.

When he had returned from war and looked into the mirror for the first time, he'd stared at his reflection and thought how curious that this man with the gaunt face and those dull, empty eyes looked so much like himself. And then he adopted an old dancer's habit from his sister and stood in front of the mirror for five minutes every morning, smiling relentlessly at his reflection. At first, the muscles in his cheeks burned all day, but he kept it up and eventually, it got easier.

Until it became effortless.

Until it felt real.

It was Sunday, so instead of heading outside to the car in suit and tie, he went downstairs, made a pot of tea and heated milk for the children. Breakfast was ready when Caroline and the kids got up; Niklaus, as always, only had the grace to join them almost thirty minutes later.

"I think I'll take Henry with me to the hospital," Caroline announced quietly. "It worked well last time, but… if you could take care of Hope, that would be great."

Elijah smiled at his niece across the table. "Of course."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Look, Uncle Elijah, it's _snowing!_" Hope said, beaming at him from her place on the window sill. "Can't we go take a walk?"

"It's getting dark, Hope," he replied, getting to his feet to stand next to her.

"Are you scared?" Her blue eyes sparkled up at him, full of mischief and reckless ideas. Her feet dangled from the sill and she eyed him in a challenging manner, that smile still on her lips.

"Dear Lord," he muttered and lifted her down, shaking his head at her. "You grow more like your father with every day that passes."

"That's good," she answered with utter conviction. "I want to be like him."

"You don't know what you're saying, Hope," he replied softly and handed her a thick coat and a hat.

"I don't need that," she said, holding the woollen hat out to him with a disgusted look at it.

An involuntary smile tugged at his lips. He wanted to be firm with his niece, and God knew all the world expected him to, but the young lady was making that very hard for him.

"You wear it or we're not going at all," he gave back as unimpressed as he could and pocketed a torch and a pair of gloves. "Gloves, hat and scarf. Please, Hope, you have to wear it," he added in a pleading tone, trying a different strategy, "your mother is going to kill me if you don't."

"You're scared of mummy?" Hope asked with a giggle.

"Oh yes, I am," he replied in all seriousness and pulled the hat over her blond braids. It wasn't even a lie – the woman that could outwit his brother had all his respect.

"Mummy isn't scary," Hope insisted, still giggling, and bounced past him down the hall.

He raised a brow at the little girl. "Just you wait, young lady, if you misbehave you might get to see it and believe me, you don't want that." He opened the door and stepped out into the cold. He had to admit it was beautiful – thick snowflakes were blowing around their heads as they made their way across the grounds.

Hope tugged at his coat. "Can we go see the forest in the snow?" She seemed to sense his unwillingness and added, blue eyes wide: "_Please."_

Elijah sighed. He knew it would have been easy to just say no – the problem was just that he had no sensible reason to do so. Yes, he avoided the forest, had done so for years now, but after all, that was nothing but a childish fear of ghosts of the past.

It was silly.

"Fine. As long as you promise not to get out of my sight," he added, fleetingly thinking of another blond little girl, standing on the riverbank, soaked to the bone.

Hope smiled and took his hand in hers.

.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, looking up to watch the branches of the trees glittering in the fading daylight. Snow was crunching underneath their feet and every breath conjured a thick white cloud. He smiled down at her and noticed too late that it wasn't quite such a happy smile.

She was Niklaus's and Caroline's daughter – she saw everything.

"Don't you think?"

"It is," he replied softly, looking away from her. That girl could always see past his mask and he couldn't say he liked that feeling. "It really is. I've always liked winter."

"Then why are you sad?"

Elijah sighed. Hope wouldn't be happy with some vague excuse – though she was just four years old, she always knew if the adults' answers weren't quite true.

"Your daddy told you about Uncle Finn, didn't he?" he answered reluctantly after a while, feeling dreadful for using his dead brother as an excuse, moreover in front of a little girl.

Hope nodded impatiently.

"It… it was winter when he died."

The girl nodded again and walked on. For a while, she was silent and he just thought he had convinced her when she simply asked:

"What else?"

"What do you mean, what else?"

"That's not why," she answered with a shrug. "You don't look like that when you talk about Uncle Finn to daddy."

For a moment, he didn't know what to say, then he laughed. She was her father's daughter, through and through.

"There was a time when I used to come here to meet someone," he answered softly. Her blue eyes were watching him closely. "I was happy, you know. But she lives far away now, and I don't really like to remember…"

"Because you miss her."

He couldn't help admiring her – how simple everything was for her. You wanted to know something, you asked. You didn't like something, you changed it. You felt something, you said it.

To him, things had never been that simple.

Niklaus wasn't the only one who woke up screaming at night anymore. His sins were plaguing him, not just in his sleep. And from time to time, in his weak, lonely moments, those dark eyes still haunted him and he caught himself wondering what she was doing. If she had changed.

"That's years ago," he answered, but his niece just smiled knowingly.

"You miss her."

He forced himself to look at the ruins already covered in a thin layer of snow and replied tonelessly: "No, that's just nostalgia. I don't miss her at all."

He couldn't shake the impression she didn't believe him – and who would blame her?

He didn't believe himself, either.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"It's impossible," Klaus was saying when he entered the room.

"I know," Caroline whimpered, dropping on the couch and running a hand through her blond curls. "I know it's impossible. But it's all she wants. For God's sake, Klaus, she's _dying. _I can't just tell her it's not going to happen."

"Bonnie Bennett?" Elijah inquired softly, looking up from his book. Caroline was usually in quite a bit of a state when she returned from her hospital visits, but he'd never seen her look this shaken before.

His brother grimaced and replied in a strained voice: "Bonnie's voiced a last wish. But she couldn't make it easy for her friend, so she asked for Katerina Petrova."

Elijah barely heard Caroline scolding her husband for his acid tone. This was the second time she had come up in a day – and after almost six years, that was far, far too often for his liking.

Hearing that name still hurt, as much as he was trying to deny it, and he usually avoided saying it. Everybody else had learned to do the same.

"We'll write her, Caroline-"

"Oh, if only I'd got that idea in the past six years," his wife bit back with heavy sarcasm in her voice. "She doesn't _reply _to the damn letters, Klaus, you know she doesn't. You know how often I've tried."

"Well, it's all we can do," he answered hotly and Elijah was starting to get the impression they had been arguing over this all the way back. "I could call Damon, tell him to talk to her, tell him to get her on the phone if it's so bloody important to you-"

"She doesn't _want _to talk to us, for whatever reason, she's hardly going to react to a phone call if she has ignored every sodding letter I ever sent to her."

"What do you want, Caroline?" Klaus asked angrily. "Do you want me to buy you a ticket? Do you want to cross the Atlantic with an infant son? Perhaps take Hope with you while you're on it?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she answered, her voice a little softer.

"Then what, shall I go? D'you want rid of me?"

"Oh, don't start with that rubbish again," she cut him off, her voice sharp, but her blue eyes were soft. "This is about Bonnie and nothing else."

Niklaus walked over to the side table and poured himself a glass of scotch that he stared at pensively for a while.

"What do you think?" he asked suddenly, looking up at Elijah.

"Since when am I the expert?" he gave back, taken aback that his brother would drag him into their argument.

Klaus gave a frustrated groan. "Dear God, did you all conspire to get on my nerves today? You're the one who used to sleep with her."

A strained silence hung in the air after these words. Elijah fixed his brother with a stern glance and said, very quietly: "Don't."

Klaus raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. But do grace me with your advice, brother dearest."

"Well, I agree with Caroline. She won't react to your attempts to contact her if she hasn't before."

"So what is there to do, then?" Niklaus's blue eyes trailed over their faces, challenging.

"Our only chance of getting her here for the funeral is to go to New York," Caroline answered softly. "It's the only way we'll make her listen."

"Well, neither of you could just go to New York," Elijah said drily. "You've got your children here, you can't leave," he added in Klaus's direction.

"Neither of us will go," Klaus declared abruptly and turned towards his brother. "Elijah."

"Excuse me?" he said blankly, staring at him.

"You're the only one who could bring her back."

"What makes you believe that?"

"Well, maybe the fact that she would have never left if you had wanted her to stay," Klaus gave back in a sardonic drawl.

"_I _did, only a certain someone made her believe I didn't-" he replied hotly.

Suddenly, anger flared in his younger brother's eyes and he slammed a fist on the coffee table. "_Enough of this, now! _For six bloody years you run around here, moping like a child and blaming the one mistake in your life on me because you just can't stand the idea that you're not _perfect_!"

For a moment, he was rendered speechless, then he asked tonelessly: "What are you playing at, Niklaus?"

"I'm just telling you, brother, that for all your gentlemanly behaviour and your sodding understanding, you never grasped the fact that if you had just _told _her to stay, or God beware told her that you loved her, none of this would have ever happened! It would have been that easy, so don't you blame it on me, I was trying to keep you from harm and you messed it up all by yourself, Elijah!"

His brother's words stunned him for a moment. Even Caroline looked somewhat shocked.

"Fine then, I'll go," he said softly after taking a deep breath. "Maybe some distance is just what we need, and if this is Miss Bennett's wish, then… then I'll help. I owe her that; she kept my secrets for all those years."

"A fancy excuse, brother, but whatever. Just bring her here in time."

"Fine. If you drop that tone," he replied sharply. "_Little_ brother."

Klaus laughed. "I'll talk to you however I see fit, Elijah. You sort of lost my respect a while ago, again, moping, childish, not living by your own rules… would you like me to go on?"

"Niklaus, please don't make me do what I have been craving to do for years."

"Which is?"

"Break your nose." He got to his feet. "You're paying for my ticket, I presume."

* * *

**_*Author's Note* _**I'm kind of proud of this chapter – another monster, but I had so many little scenes prepared and I couldn't part with any of them… I think I managed to connect them alright, though. Please let me have your thoughts on this chapter, I'm really fond of the whole thing and I would honestly love some feedback!


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Once again, if you'd like some musci suggestions, there is a whole playlist for this fic on my tumblr. You'll find the link on my profile ;)

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen – January 1957**

The music was a relief, flooding through her body and washing every thought from her mind. There was still that surge of adrenaline when her feet lost contact with the floor, still that feeling of zero gravity when she turned until her head was spinning.

Ballet was still the closest thing to a home she had, but it was starting to get a stale aftertaste.

She couldn't tell where it had come from or what exactly it was, but it was always there – on the one hand, dancing made her happy. And on the other, it made her sad.

_Manic depressive, _she thought with a faint smirk. _Sounds like Katherine Pierce, you should add that to the list._

Katherine raised her head and lifted her arms into the fifth position en avance. The choreography was said to be one of the most difficult and complex that had been seen at the Broadway for years, but to her, it was easy. Exhausting, yes, but not difficult in the least.

This training session was boring her already. What point was there in her being there? _She _knew all the steps, knew the music, knew the dance.

She could have been in a bar now, wrapping some Wall Street guy in suit and tie around her finger – now that was a much more interesting pastime.

Well, maybe later that evening. She could do with a new handbag and she didn't have anyone yet who would buy it for her. She should probably have asked Mason. It was a shame she got bored with men that easily, it would have saved her a lot of effort if she'd kept him around for another week or so.

But truth was, Katherine Pierce enjoyed the chase. She loved walking into a bar in a tight dress and high heels, watching how the heads turned towards her, feeling how everyone eyed her from head to feet. She had nothing to hide – thankfully, her job gifted her with the perfect build as a side effect. The smile, the teasing spark in her eyes and the sultry voice complete with the American accent, however, were the results of hard, deliberate work.

It was an achievement, and a very handy one at that – why would she need to be able to defend herself if she could play the rest of the world like puppets? Why should she be scared of a man when she knew she could have him on his knees without saying a single word?

Oh, Katherine had the world at her feet and the men of New York at her disposal – and she relished in it.

Even now, she had the choreograph staring longingly at her backside, she didn't even need to turn around to see that he did. When she'd come to America, she would have probably felt dirty underneath his stare. But she had learned to accept the lust she could spark in men, learned to use it instead of being repulsed by it, and by now, she _enjoyed _it. Because it showed her just how much power she had over the rest of the world.

She was always in control.

"How often have I said 'no jewellery', Katherine?" the choreograph demanded.

She ran a finger over the fragile bracelet on her wrist and smiled at him. "The one thing I wouldn't take off for you, sweetheart."

A greasy smirk appeared on his lips and he immediately dropped the topic. Katherine grinned. Gosh, it was just too easy sometimes.

She'd wanted to tease him, but she'd been serious, too – she didn't take that bracelet off for anyone. Only for performances. It had become a part of her.

"Won't you ever take that thing off?" had been Damon's constant lament, back when he'd been the one warming her bed – well, he _had _frequented her bed after that, but not as regularly.

"Can't," she'd replied everytime in a sarcastic voice. "Without it, I'd burn in the sun."

Either way, she didn't take it off, not _ever. _It was her own little rebellion against the theatre's rules, it was the first piece of Katherine Pierce that she'd had, and besides, it was beautiful.

It wasn't sentimental. Katherine Pierce was not sentimental, and she didn't keep souvenirs. Not even trophies. She was a survivor, a warrior. She travelled light.

But a bracelet was not heavy to carry.

"We're gonna do that again," the choreograph called, and Katherine groaned. _Dear Lord, this was taking ages. _

She raised her eyes to the ceiling – and spotted a figure on the dark tiers. She knew she was actually too far away to recognise the man…

The pianist began to play.

He looked weirdly misplaced there between the red velvet seats, probably because he was dressed so incredibly formally. Suit and tie, she thought she could even glimpse a white pocket handkerchief.

But to her, he didn't fit into the picture for a wholly different reason: This was New York, America.

And that man… that man didn't belong into this city. He didn't belong on this _continent._

He belonged into another world, into a small, antiquated town with old, weathered mansions surrounded by forests and hedge banks. Somerset, United Kingdom.

In the back of her mind, she could hear the piano music and vaguely noticed the choreograph staring at her because she was probably supposed to be dancing, but she couldn't move.

Though she couldn't even see the man's face, she could have sworn he was looking at her and she was staring right back, transfixed and shocked.

He was a bloody ghost, wasn't he, he couldn't possibly be here, what the hell was going on? Was she imagining things? Was she going insane?

"Katherine, what the hell?"

She tore her eyes away from the man on the tiers and stared at the choreograph instead. Then she shook her head and said brusquely:

"I'm done for today. Same time tomorrow, right?"

"Katherine, you can't-" he began, but she had already turned to leave and simply repeated:

"I'm done, Jackson."

.

She felt awful when she climbed down the stairs of the stage, a little breathless and her heart beating much too fast.

Something, though she had no idea what, was messing with her head. She just had to go, had to leave this damn place and then she'd be fine. Katherine refused to let the past haunt her, that was not who she was.

The past, along with Katerina Petrova and the first page of her copy of _The Great Gatsby_, had sailed off the deck of her ferry and been swallowed by the waves of the Atlantic Sea a long, long time ago.

She rushed through the doors, desperate for cold air and sunlight and traffic noise, but instead, she almost bumped into someone on the way out.

She caught a whiff of a familiar aftershave and her fingers met smooth fabric.

"Sorry," she muttered, looked up – and froze on the spot.

She had been right about the pocket handkerchief, not white, but a light grey. The suit itself seemed to be quite new, tailor-made as always, perfectly fitted. There was a new line or two on his face, but his hair was still thick and dark. His warm brown eyes, though, looked different than she remembered – or no, they didn't. In fact, they looked just like they had in the light of the Lockwood's crystal chandelier. Gentle and kind, but distant, and despite their light colour, there was a trace of darkness in them and that grief that had never seemed to vanish completely.

She didn't understand – how could _he_ be here, how could he have followed her, and most of all, why would he _bother?_

"Just who I was looking for." His voice was still just as soft as she remembered. "You've become an even better dancer… not that I was much of an expert."

For a long moment, she could do nothing but stare, then she stammered, lacking all the sass she prided herself on: "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," he replied softly, not fazed at all by her reaction.

"I don't wanna talk to you," she snapped, still trying to get over the shock. She more remembered the hurt than that she felt it, but it was enough to make her angry. Enough to make her want to get away from him as soon and as far as she possibly could.

He just smiled. "It's urgent. I'll take you out for lunch, wherever you'd like, but we _will _talk, Katerina-"

"It's Katherine," she cut him off brusquely.

The smile was still there, didn't waver for a second. "Where shall we go?"

"I'm not going anywhere with-" She broke off, shook her head and said flatly: "Goodbye, Elijah."

Then she turned and walked away from him with stiff, swift steps. She felt breathless, and those feelings were returning with every step – the sadness, the anger, this feeling of not being enough.

Angrily, she shook her head and shoved them away. This was the kind of thing Katerina had felt, and Katerina was gone.

A hand closed firmly around her wrist and she stopped dead in her tracks. "You're not getting rid of me. Not when I've travelled for three days just to talk to you."

His voice was very close to her ear and he stood so closely behind her she could feel his warmth in her back.

"You know I could just scream, right?" she murmured, trying to convince herself that she did _not _enjoy that proximity. Her treacherous heart was racing. "There's always someone coming to _my _rescue, believe me."

"I'm a lawyer," he replied tauntingly. "Believe _me, _I could talk my way out of it. And I will not go until you listen to what I have to say."

"Keep it short then, I don't have all day," she replied coolly, still staring ahead and waiting for him to let go – and trying to shut up that faint voice in her head that wished he wouldn't. She felt as if she was about to faint and she couldn't _believe _he could still do this to her – after so many years, after everything that had happened. She couldn't understand. Elijah Mikaelson had had power over Katerina, but not over _Katherine, _nobody had power over her but herself_. _

"Why don't we sit down and deal with it like adults?" He still didn't raise his voice and it was still so soft, almost tender, just like she remembered. That was Elijah, through and through - he could say anything in that gentle, affectionate tone, no matter what his words did to the person he was talking to.

"Didn't you hear me the first time? _I don't wanna talk to you,_" she hissed, spinning around to glare up at him. "I don't know what you're doing here, I just want you to get lost right now and I don't _care_ what you have to say."

"If you are under the impression that I am here to try and, ah, _court _you, then don't worry," he replied, his voice firm with the faintest trace of anger. "I am not here about my own interests in the least, leaving aside the question whether or not I have such interest. In fact, I am nothing but the bearer of bad tidings since everyone involved in the matter was unable to undertake the journey."

Katherine felt helpless, almost scared. "Let go of me or I'm gonna scream bloody murder. Maybe I'll get lucky and a cop's gonna shoot you."

His fingers withdrew from her wrist, gently brushing over her skin as they did. "Alright. Now, where does one get a decent lunch around here?"

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The Mystic Grill was the first place that came to her mind. It was owned by Damon's drinking buddy Alaric Saltzman – the elder Salvatore's only friend. Ric was actually a history teacher, but when he'd lost his job, he had bought the bar that he had practically owned anyway.

Katherine didn't really know why she had chosen it – Alaric didn't exactly like her because she had broken poor little Damon's heart, and his food wasn't exactly New York's finest, either. But his bourbon was good, and anyway, her mind didn't work very clearly at the moment.

"Have a seat." He had the nerve to pull the chair back for her.

"Stop being so damn polite, Elijah," she snapped. "It's not like I'd wanted to come."

"I see no point in being rude, Katerina-"

"It's _Katherine."_

A sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he shook his head. "Not to me." He sighed, leaned back in his chair and waved a hand. Ric came out behind the counter with a notepad in his hand and a disgruntled look on his face.

"You know, sir, I will serve you when it's your turn," Ric snapped. "Katherine. Tell me what you want, then tell your friend that I don't let someone call me like a dog."

"I honestly didn't mean to insult you, sir," he replied gently. "I'll have something to eat, please, whatever suits you best, I'm starving-"

"Bourbon for me, Ric," Katherine said.

"Same for me, please," Elijah quipped in, still in his best polite voice.

"Fine," Ric muttered, his voice still sour. "Might take a while."

Elijah glanced up at Katherine, scrutinised her stony expression and called after Ric: "On second thoughts, bring the bottle."

He folded his hands on the table and looked at her steadfastly until she cast her eyes down.

"You said you wanted to talk, so why don't you?"

"Well, firstly I have a few things for you," he said with a sober facial expression and reached into his pocket. "Invitation to the wedding, the christening, the second christening, picture of Hope and Henry," he rattled off and threw three sealed envelopes and a photograph onto the table as he spoke. "Obviously you missed them all, a shame. It was a wonderful wedding."

She glanced at the photograph, careful to keep her expression devoid of emotions. "Pretty children."

"The most wonderful children in the world," he replied softly. "But as angry as it makes Caroline and, well, me… none of that is the reason I am here."

"Well then, spill," she bit back angrily.

"You remember Bonnie Bennett, do you not?" he asked. "Another of those friends that you left behind without a word."

"Of course I remember her," she said coldly. "But Bonnie, just like Caroline, and my parents, and most of all just like _you, _is a part of my past, and I left that behind me. I had to."

He grimaced, but didn't comment. "She was diagnosed with cancer last year, she is going to die."

She just stared back at him. It really didn't shock her very much – _Bonnie _she had truly left behind, even though she appeared to have issues with letting go of him.

"And?"

"She grows weaker by the day," he went on, still looking her right in the eye as if he was trying to find something on her face. "Caroline visits her every week. Miss Bennett has quite recently voiced her last wish, she was quite firm about it."

She waited for a moment, but he didn't go on. "Well?"

"Didn't you guess by now?" he murmured, shaking his head. Ric came with the bourbon, placed it on the table without a word and Elijah took his time to pour the perfect amount in both glasses.

He took a sip and eyed the glass closely. "Bonnie Bennett wants you to attend her funeral."

A disbelieving laugh escaped her lips. "Really? You came all this way just to tell me Bonnie wants me to be at her funeral?"

"Yes," he replied calmly. "Not managing to fulfil Bonnie's wish makes Caroline deeply unhappy, which causes my brother to be unhappy, too, and I believe you have an idea of what I would to ensure my siblings' happiness."

Suddenly, a victorious grin stole on her lips. Oh, perhaps Elijah Mikaelson still had influence on her, perhaps he could still make her heart race, perhaps he could still cause her skin to burn… but here he was, and he had travelled for over three days to see her.

And the way he was looking at her…

"So you're clearly single, then. I mean if you had a wife, a girlfriend, you wouldn't have come. Do you live with your brother and Caroline?" she asked sweetly.

He frowned at her, then took another sip of his glass. "Technically, _I _inherited the house quite recently when our mother died. It is big enough for all of us, though, and I am happy to share with my family. He is my brother. Should I spend a lifetime alone instead?"

Her smile widened. _Yes. _Single, and _lonely. _All he had left was his work, and the way she knew him he'd thrown himself headfirst into it.

Katherine could have cried with joy. The man opposite her had sexual frustration written all over him, and that meant that he had a weakness, and one she knew only too well how to use.

"Katerina, I tell you that your childhood friend is dying and you are smiling at me. Pray tell me how I am supposed to understand that."

She continued to smile. "Well, I am optimistic to the bone, Elijah. And maybe it's not that bad you're here. We could have a _lot_ of fun, you and me."

He raised a brow and refilled his glass. "Your train of thoughts is a little disturbing."

"Yeah, I'm a little changeable, I'm afraid," she muttered and downed the bourbon. "I'm sorry for Bonnie, but as long as I don't win the lottery, I can't help you. I got a job here and I can't leave."

She raised her glass to him, still smiling, before he could answer. "To Bonnie?"

He frowned at her.

"Come on, Elijah. You invited me, now you gotta have a drink with me," she said, putting just the right amount of huskiness into her voice. "I could show you the city afterwards if you like."

"I studied law, Katerina," he said quietly after a moment. "I don't know if you've ever looked into the subject, but it requires a keen mind, patience and a high level of endurance. So believe me, I can be persistent. You could at least try a little harder, give me some credit."

Her smile remained on her lips. He'd always been the king of empty words, and she knew her strengths. She would get rid of him in no time at all. "I always get what I want, Elijah. I've learned all the tricks. We'll see who's more stubborn, honey." She grinned and leaned over the table to press a kiss to the corner of his lips before he had a chance to recoil. The red smudge on his skin was immensely satisfying. "So, I take it you refuse the city tour?"

"I'll pass, thank you," he replied slowly, frowning at her.

"See you soon, then, Mr Mikaelson," she said in her sweetest voice, proudly noticing the way his eyes flickered down to her lips. She turned and walked away, feeling so victorious that she could almost forget her broken heart was aching.

* * *

_***A/N* **_I really hope that I got Katherine alright, I'm not used to writing her. Do tell me what you think of her and this chapter in general! And a big thank you to the two guest reviewers, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen – January 1957**

"I'm sorry, Bekah," he said as soon as someone answered the phone. "I know I shouldn't be calling-"

"Most of all you bloody well shouldn't be calling _now,_" his sister mumbled. "Dammit, Elijah, it's three in the morning, I honestly considered _you_ smart enough to do your maths."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, realising a little belatedly how slurred his voice sounded.

His sister clearly hadn't taken that long. "What happened?"

"Sorry?" he gave back, feigning confusion – or at least tried and failed. Shouldn't have surprised him, really, with the ridiculous amount of control he had over his voice.

"Oh come on, Elijah," she said irritably. "You've been there for, what, a day, you're drunk – you're never drunk – you call _me, _in the middle of the night. What happened?"

"Nothing," he replied slowly, shaking his head as he did, and stared at the faded white wallpaper of his hotel room. "Everything played out more or less the way I thought it would."

Rebekah sighed and after a soft rustling at the other end of the line, she stated softly: "You found her, then."

"Of course I did," he muttered, still shaking his head. "She's right where she's supposed to be, she's hardly got anywhere else to go. Besides, Katherine Pierce is… hard to overlook."

"Katherine Pierce?"

"Well, that's what she calls herself these days," he explained with a scoff. "It's not just the name, though, there's a perfect New York accent and a fair share of hostility that comes with it."

"Are you alright?" His sister's voice was gentle and underneath a thick layer of sleepiness there was a lot of worry.

"_Of course _I am, why wouldn't I be?" he snapped, pacing angrily up and down the room as far as the telephone flex allowed. "How come that everyone is under the impression that my only purpose in coming here was to fall to her feet and beg her to take me back?"

There was a short pause, then Rebekah just said very quietly: "Because deep down, that's what you would like to do, isn't it?"

"It's not, I would know, wouldn't I? I'm here for Niklaus, shouldn't be news to anyone that everything I do is done to please my little brother," he growled.

"How long are you going to keep telling yourself that?" Rebekah asked. "Now sit down and tell me what happened."

.

"So, all in all… she's fine. I mean, that's good news, she's still dancing, she's healthy and apparently… enjoys life," he finished lamely, but his sister saw right through him and just laughed.

"When will you learn that you can't just lie to me, Elijah?"

He shook his head and sighed.

It was the lipstick, that bloody red lipstick perfectly painted on her full lips, that had convinced him. Katherine wasn't the girl he'd walked through the forest in the freezing cold of that winter six years ago, the one he'd danced with at the Lockwood's ball.

He had no idea who this woman was, and the realisation hurt a whole damn lot more than he cared to admit.

"Well, if you know everything, Bekah," he muttered with a humourless little laugh, "then tell me why that hurts so much. I swear I have no intention to win her back and I don't understand why I can't stand to see her that way-"

"Because she doesn't need you," Rebekah answered slowly. "You always need to be someone's knight in shining armour-"

"That's not-" he began, but she kept talking in her soothing voice.

"You need to be someone's saviour. That's why you half gave your life to save Nik, why you chased all my admirers away so I wouldn't get hurt – you always feel that need to save everyone. And that's why you can't stand to see her, why you're so depressed around Nik – because they don't depend on you anymore. Such a relationship, it's not healthy on the long run, not for either of you, that's why it didn't work out with her."

He stared at the wall in the dark and wondered if that was true. Once again he felt the need to argue, but then again there was probably no one these days who knew him better than Rebekah, and she had always had a sharp eye for his troubles.

"It's… it's not a bad trait, Elijah," she whispered. "It's just who you are." There was a pause, and when she went on there was a trace of a smile in her voice. "And because of that, I guess you won't let it go, right? You won't just come back and say you tried."

He smiled against his will and shook his head, then realised she couldn't see him. "What kind of man would I be if I didn't try to find my girl somewhere inside this Katherine person?"

"Certainly not yourself," Rebekah muttered and he could almost hear the way she rolled her eyes. "But please, brother," she went on in a quiet, intent voice. "Take it from me. Someone who's broken your heart once will only break it again."

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the hint of pain in her voice. "I'm quite safe. My heart belongs to no woman but one, Rebekah, and that is you."

Rebekah chuckled. "Nik gets that from you, you know? Covering up a bad lie with a gallant, completely misplaced compliment."

Again, he smiled a little, then replied in a more sincere tone: "I have no intention to hand her anything that she could break. I just… don't believe in that unfeeling attitude, and I think that if I can prove to her wrong, then I might be able to convince her to come to the funeral."

"Sure, Elijah," she answered in a tired voice. "But back then, you had no intention to hand her anything, either, right?"

"Six years have passed, sister," he replied in the most firm voice he could manage, trying to convince himself just as much as her. "I must have learned _something._"

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The noise was unbelievable, explosions, screams, voices barking orders and that peculiar sound of metal penetrating flesh, smashing bones. The thumps of bodies falling to the ground.

He was cold, and his clothes were heavy with mud, powdered with dust and sprayed with blood that wasn't his. His hair clung to his skull, wet and dirty. There was dust in his eyes, too, or maybe gun powder, and he couldn't see.

There were bullets flying past him, though he was fairly sure that for now they'd all missed. There were people yelling at him to get down, but he didn't, just ran on, stumbling over big heavy things that were too soft to be rocks.

"_Niklaus!_"

A nasty coughing fit shook him, but he hurried on, then his feet caught on something warm and soft again and he lost his balance. His hands sunk into the mud and something cut into his palms, but the fear for his brother kept the pain at bay.

For a moment, his eyes fell onto the object he had tripped over, and found it was a body of a man in a badly singed marine's uniform. The fallen soldier had wrapped his arms around a woman, a nurse with dark red hair. When Elijah fought onto his feet, the man's head lulled to the side and he stared into a stern, young face, achingly familiar brown eyes staring blindly into the dusty air.

"Finn," he croaked, staring down at him in horror. Then he shook his head and ran on, still yelling for his little brother, his throat so sore he thought his voice would be gone any moment now.

Someone bumped into him, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, there was a little girl standing behind him in a pleated black skirt and a white blouse; a grey woollen bonnet sat on her silvery curls. She was crying.

"No, don't, you mustn't, stay here, stay with me, _please,_" she called, sobbing and extending a hand towards him. "You promised, _liar, _you promised me -"

He swallowed back the tears and false apologies, turned his back on her, stumbled on. He inhaled dust and tried to cough it back up, smearing blood and mud over his face in the process.

He felt a sudden thug at his jacket, then he heard a distant voice, thick with tears and full of hatred. A little boy. "This was you. It's all your fault! You could've held him back, but you didn't, because you _hated _father, you just let him do that! It's your fault! _I hate you_!"

Again, he staggered, Kol's yelling still in his ears, and fell flat on his face.

When he scrambled to his feet again, the world around him had fallen silent, there were no bullets anymore, no screams, nothing. The air was filled with a fine mist, he appeared to be standing in some kind of vast field, the only living thing for as far as he could see. Ahead of him, there was a small black heap on the ground. When he got closer, he realised it was a body.

It wasn't a soldier. A young man, dressed in simple, dirty clothes, with pale blond hair and even paler eyes, unseeing. His face and his neck were covered in bruises, his nose was fractured and there was blood in his hair, he had a split lip.

Elijah stared down at the man, at the face from which he'd wiped that unbearable smirk.

Tears welled up in his eyes and the world started to spin around him and he squeezed his lids shut very firmly.

Then a bright laugh reached his ears and he opened his eyes again. The girl between the trees was looking back at him over her shoulder, glossy dark hair cascading over her back, and her brown eyes sparkled at him.

"You're supposed to catch me."

"But then the game would be over," he could hear himself answer and she laughed again, coming towards him and kissed him.

"Don't leave me, Katerina," he whispered into her hair, pulling her closer, his fingers running over the familiar worn fabric of that grey coat.

.

He woke with a start, then groaned and fell back onto the pillow, listening to the noises of the city outside. He didn't know whether the Americans had just never learnt how to build houses or if New York was just that much louder than London, and he didn't care.

He was glad for the noise, a welcome substitute for the racket that had been ringing in his ears moments ago.

He had had such dreams so often in those past years, yet he never seemed to get used to them.

The sirens outside the window wailed. Elijah shuddered and buried his face in the pillow, pulling the blanket over his head, hot tears still burning in his eyes.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The next morning, he felt dead on his feet. He tried to wash down the images of the dream with several cups of strong coffee and a sickly sweet liquid that was supposed to be orange juice, but they wouldn't go away.

He got up and adjusted his smile in the mirror of the elevator, planning his steps.

He needed to see the Salvatores, even though he was fairly sure they would not be all that happy to see him. Especially the older of the two, Damon, with whom he'd had a rather _harsh _conversation all those years ago when he'd made some kind of comment about Katerina, and Damon Salvatore didn't strike Elijah as a person that forgot such things easily. His smile turned grim – it looked like he was in for a _delightful_ visit.

.

The first thing he noticed was the woman who let him inside the Salvatores' office in town. The premises were beautiful, located on the fourth floor with a nice view over the Hudson and spacious for a New York apartment.

The woman threw him a shy smile and stroked a strand of sleek chestnut hair behind her ear as she walked around her desk towards him. She bore an uncanny resemblance to Katerina, he thought and forced himself not to stare.

"Elijah Mikaelson," he stuttered, then cleared his throat and steadied his voice. "I called earlier, I need to speak to your superiors."

"Right," she replied, her smile widening. "Just take a seat over there for a moment, Stefan had an issue with one of the dancers, but he'll be here in a moment. Damon," she gave a nervous little laugh, "who knows. He's never on time. But I told him to come."

He sat down on the leather couch she'd indicated and watched her file paperwork for a while. "So, have you worked here for long?" he asked after a moment, unable to contain his curiosity about this young woman.

"Yeah, sort of," she replied with a grin and raised a hand to show him a fine gold ring. "Elena Salvatore, Stefan and I got married three years ago, but I've been working for him even longer."

He wanted to frown, but put up an embarrassed smile instead.

How strange… why would _Stefan _pick a girl so much like Katerina? It had always been Damon who'd stared after her-

He didn't get to ponder about it, for in that moment the door opened, Damon Salvatore entered and threw the girl a warm smile that immediately vaporised from his lips when his eyes fell on Elijah.

"Ah, my _favourite_ Mikaelson." He was still the handsome young man that had wreaked havoc in their house, though there was something darker about his light blue eyes now, some kind of sorrow and a considerable amount of anger.

"To what do I owe the unexpected honour?" The mocking smirk that played around his lips hadn't changed, though.

"The exact same thing that you came to England for, Mr Salvatore," Elijah replied nonchalantly and rose to his feet, extending a hand that the younger man ignored completely.

"Katherine." Damon's voice was cold, harsh. Protective.

"Katerina Petrova, quite right," he replied, shocked to find the same tone in his voice. Well, weren't they both pathetic.

Damon turned without another word, opened a door and disappeared. Elijah followed him, assuming he was to take the open door as an invitation. He found another airy room with the same monstrous window as the entrance hall. Damon sat on the table top of his massive desk, toying with a letter opener.

"So, Mikaelson… want your plaything back, do you?" He grimaced, a cold smile playing around his lips. "Could be a bit late for that. Others have been messing around with it." The ice blue eyes watched him very closely and Elijah fought to keep up his façade. It was not that he was surprised, he had seen the way she had treated the choreograph at the theatre, the barman and most of all himself. What unsettled him was how easily Damon picked the right words to hurt him.

"_Lots _of others, I'm afraid."

He took a very deliberate, deep breath, then asked calmly: "I beg your pardon?"

Damon gave a disgusted snort. "What, is that a problem in England? Oh, that's right, you study law. Wanna become judge or something? I guess bedding an underage girl doesn't look too good then."

_Deep breaths. _"Look at the pot calling the kettle black, Damon. Was she at least of age when _you _slept with her?"

Damon grinned. "A gentleman never tells. But you, you were obsessed with her, I couldn't believe you let her leave. Knew you'd be jealous."

"I'm not, believe me," he replied. "I am not here to _have my plaything back,_ Mr Salvatore, and beside that I'd really like to know by what right you adopt that tone in front of me."

"My right as a free citizen of the United States to say whatever the hell I want?" Damon gestured towards an empty seat in the corner. "Why are you here, Elijah? I can call you that, right?"

Elijah fought back the urge to roll his eyes. "I am here to convince… Katherine, is it? To convince Katherine to come to the funeral of a family friend. They went to school together and it was her last wish… I thought that wouldn't be much of a problem, but Katherine is surprisingly stubborn. She ignored all our letters, so I was sent to convince her."

The older Salvatore laughed. "Bad choice of envoy. Katherine hates you. The last time I heard her speak of you, she said she'd scratch your eyes out if she ever saw your face again."

Well, it wasn't like he hadn't noticed _that _when he'd talked to her…

"As far as I know I never did her wrong," he replied very softly, staring out of the window.

"Clearly not _her _side of the story," Damon gave back with a shrug. "But who knows what story to believe about mysterious Elijah Mikaelson anyway, right? You should have heard the things the old women in your town tell each other about you…"

He sighed and decided not to ask. Sadly, Damon Salvatore didn't need any incentive to keep talking.

"There was that one about your father's death, oh, I think that was my favourite."

"A heart attack is a very boring story to tell, it's not surprising they'd make up a better one."

The younger man was still smiling. "They say there was blood on your hands when you opened the door for the coroner, _and _they say that said coroner signed _heart attack _as cause of death and bought himself a brand new car a week later."

Elijah smiled mildly. "So, not only do you accuse me of murdering my own father but also of bribing the medical examiner to cover up for it?"

"Oh no, I think if anyone murdered their own father, it was your ticking time-bomb of a brother, and I'm just retelling a nice story. Are you feeling threatened?"

"Why, did you threaten me?"

Footsteps interrupted them. Damon looked up. "Ah, Stefan. Come see what the cat dragged in."

Stefan Salvatore's smile was still just as friendly as it had been six years ago. "Mr Mikaelson-"

"It's Elijah. I'm glad you came."

"Good to see you again. Sorry about my brother," he threw Damon a pointed look, "I'm in charge of manners around here, I'm afraid."

"I'm no stranger to that phenomenon, Stefan, don't worry," he replied with a smile. "I need your help. Kateri- Katherine Pierce refuses to come to the funeral of her and my sister-in-law's school friend, but I gave my word I'd bring her there in time."

"I'd love to say that surprises me."

Elijah raised a brow at the younger Salvatore. "But it doesn't? Why?"

"Because she's a cold-hearted little beast and she'd never do anything for anyone but herself," Damon quipped in.

He remembered vaguely how Katerina had stood between him and Niklaus who was clutching a bloodied shard of glass, and shook his head. "We _are_ talking about the same woman, are we not?"

"Your sweet little Katerina is definitely gone, Elijah," Stefan answered with a sigh. "I mean, her dancing is excellent as ever, but… that's about the only good thing I can tell you about her."

"What do you mean?"

"She's got an insane fear of being replaced and I swear she puts all her rivals under pressure. The girls we get to dance lead roles suddenly tell us they can't take the job, Victoria Donovan, one of the best newcomers in all of the US, turns us down for a job in _Texas_. Jenna Sommers, sweet girl, couldn't hurt a fly. Stabbed herself in the stomach multiple times, died in the hospital. Then there was Sarah Sawyer, who fell down the stairs, paralysed from the neck down ever since. Katherine was there, all distraught when the police came, but if you ask me, it was her who pushed her. Of course, nothing could ever be proven."

He could feel slight shock tugging at his consciousness, but forced himself to ignore it. He had to think this through, but not now. "Why don't you fire her if she brought you so much trouble?"

"We can't," Stefan replied sourly.

"The word my brother's looking for is blackmail," Damon Salvatore added darkly. "She dug up some dodgy business in our finances. It's all bygones now really, but not to the law. You'd know that, right? Anyway, if she'd publish that, we'd be ruined."

Elijah sighed. "Does any of you know whatever it is that I have done to make her so angry with me?"

"Ask her. And I'll bet ten bucks that she will really scratch your eyes out," Damon answered with a grin. "Anyways, I gotta go. Nice talking to you, Elijah."

Elijah watched him go, then turned to Stefan and muttered: "Thank you for your help, Stefan. I'll leave you." He got to his feet and added, already halfway out of the door: "Oh and… congratulations on your marriage."

"Thank you. Good luck with Katherine," Stefan said in a slightly bitter voice, "you'll need it."

* * *

_***A/N* **_This chapter took me _months _and I'm not one-hundred per cent sure about it, but it's done, which is what counts_. _I'm not sure how likely it is that there'd be a phone in the hotel room in 1957, but whatever. He's a rich guy. They'll get him a phone *lol*  
As to the Salvatores, I think I got them okay, and I'm really proud I managed to work Elena in.  
Two things that I was really desperate to squeeze into this were the close relationship to Rebekah and that little story Damon heard about Elijah (which as we know is probably more accurate than anyone would believe ^^)

As always, please leave a review and tell me what you think! I'll listen to any theory you might have as to how this goes on, so feel free to tell me!


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen – January 1957**

"Look at that," Pearl said, shaking her head, as she came back from the stage. "We have an audience."

"We do? Who?" Emily asked, a hairpin between her teeth, without raising her eyes from the mirror.

"Don't know. Some guy in a suit. Handsome, dark hair, looked a bit austere, though."

Katherine frowned. That description only fit on one person she knew. "He's from England," she declared, rummaging through her handbag in search of her lipstick. Some people deserved an extra layer of bloody red on her lips. "Old money."

"You know him?"

She grinned up at the slim woman. "_Quite _well, yeah. Affair lasted over six months, when I left England, he came to kiss me goodbye."

Pearl raised a perfectly plucked brow. "Wasn't he a bit old for you?"

Katherine took up her lip brush and refreshed the crimson on her lips. "I was very cute at seventeen, honey. He never stood a chance."

"What's he want here?" Emily had finished her hairdo and bent down to tie her shoes.

Katherine finished her make-up and got to her feet. "Looks like the poor man's missed me. He looks ever so lonely these days… I think I'll have a little fun with him."

Pearl grinned at her. "You'd really break the heart of your first, Katherine?"

"He wasn't my first," she replied with a shrug and left backstage with long, firm steps.

.

She refused to believe that it changed anything, the fact he sat there and his eyes never left her. It didn't make a difference, and it wasn't him that was disturbing her concentration, she was just tired.

This was a rehearsal like any other.

It was even good he was there, it was playing into her hands. The sooner she got her hands on him, the sooner she'd be rid of him. The sooner she'd have her life back, the way it had been. The way she'd built it.

There was a pause in the choreography and she stood completely still in the middle of the stage, and when she glanced down at him, he smiled. She hated him for that, for how lovingly he could look at her when he had clearly never cared one bit for her. But she made her red lips smile back, knowing he'd fall for it. She might not know what game he was playing, but she knew he still saw the sweet little peasant girl when he looked at her, he didn't really think she was capable of any kind of deception.

_"__You're not a very good liar, Katerina."_

She smiled inwardly. No, Katerina had not been a good liar. But Katherine was an expert. And she would play him and hurt him as he'd hurt her, until he ran off to where he'd come from and never came back.

.

"Elijah."

"Now, please don't pretend you were surprised to see me, Katerina," he replied and adjusted his coat.

"It's Katherine," she shot back. "Are you forever going to ignore that?"

He shrugged, something like a smile playing around his lips. "If I must."

Katherine suppressed the urge to roll her eyes in annoyance and put a smile on her lips. "Let's not fight, sweetheart. Did you like the show?"

"You looked a little bored."

She shrugged and put on her jacket. "Yeah, I been doing this for years now, it gets old."

"You used to be so passionate about ballet." She couldn't see his face, but she thought there was a trace of concern in his voice.

"Every little girl loves ballet, Elijah," she gave back, her tone just a shred too harsh, and strode out of the room, not waiting for him to follow.

He caught up with her outside, looking a little peeved she'd made him run after her. She suppressed a smirk.

"Wait."

She was infinitely pleased to find a touch of annoyance in his voice. He reached into his jacket.

"There's something I need to take care of this afternoon, so," he held a ticket out to her, "I thought I might take you out tonight. Go see a performance, I imagine you've never sat on the other side of the curtain before?"

For a moment, she was so taken by surprise she couldn't muster any kind of reaction at all. "Most men _ask _a woman out, Elijah, they don't just give orders. I get you're out of practice, but really, where are your manners?"

She didn't get him with that, his mask was even as ever. "It's an expensive place, so try with some fabric for a change," he said with a swift glance down to her skirt.

"You know, sweetheart, that kind of comment won't get me to give you what you want," she said with a smile. "If I'm supposed to like you, you've gotta be nice. That's how it works."

"_Nice _seems to be a language that you no longer understand," he replied in a strained voice. "You haven't given me a single honest answer since I've come here, and I'm afraid I'm losing my patience with you."

This condescending tone made her incredibly angry – after everything he'd done, by what right did he talk to her like that, like she was some misbehaved child?

Right, well, if she couldn't seduce him, that didn't mean she couldn't hurt him.

"Well, you look tired, too. Rough night, was it?"

He stared back at her stoically, didn't react, but Katherine knew she'd hit a nerve. "Still get the nightmares, then? That's tough when you sleep alone."

He turned away from her and stared out onto the street for a moment, but she saw the hurt in his eyes. It was a disappointing sight to her, though – she'd expected to enjoy her little victory a lot more.

When he turned back, the muscles on his jaw were tight and he looked more tired than ever. "You want to be cold and cruel, Katerina? Well, I could play that game, and better than you do." His voice was different, colder and harder than usual. It reminded her of someone, Klaus perhaps… But when he went on, his voice quieter still, it hit her that he sounded like his mother. "Don't make me. I have no desire to hurt you. I have been nothing but polite since I've come here and I honestly don't know what it is that I have done to you-"

She gave a disdainful little laugh, but he ignored her.

"Whatever it was, I am sorry, but there is _nothing _that gives you the right to talk to me like that. I can't demand your affection, but I will have your respect, Katerina. You and I, we have gone through hell and back before we met, and you of all people should know there are scars that do not heal. I will not be mocked for that, not by anyone, and certainly not you."

He abruptly turned and walked away without another look at her before she could even think of a reply. "I'll pick you up at eight."

Finally, she overcame her momentary inability to speak. "You don't know where I live."

"Believe it or not," he called over his shoulder, his voice acid, "I asked someone about that, darling."

She leaned against the wall heavily, staring after him. Again, she found herself wondering why he had really come to New York. For Bonnie? Hardly. But then again, he was all about duty, and if he'd promised Caroline, or even his brother…

It didn't really matter what he wanted, though, not really. What mattered was that he had to go.

After all, Katherine Pierce had begun her life with a vow.

_She would never let anyone hurt her like that again._

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

She had considered wearing the shortest dress she owned just to annoy him, but then decided on something else, something that would get more than annoyance out of him. With a little smile, she smoothed out the black fabric of her dress. It was pretty uptight for her standards and fell down to her knees, but she couldn't deny it looked great on her, and it was the kind of dress that could drive a man like Elijah Mikaelson crazy.

She opted for white pearl earrings and after a moment, she decided to wear her hair open as well.

Abstaining from her beloved lipstick was hard, but the look on his face would be worth it. She still put it into her handbag, though – who knew what the night might bring, and Katherine would hate to go without it. The handbag would have felt strangely empty without it anyway, what else would fill the empty space next to the knife if not her lipstick?

She threw one last look in the mirror and grinned, satisfied with the result of her unfamiliarly short preparation. Oh yes, this would do just perfect. She might have passed as seventeen again.

It was eight when he knocked on her door, not one minute past eight, not two minutes to eight. Eight sharp. She was incredibly annoyed just by that, but tried her best not to let it show on her face.

"Oh good, you found my place," she said sweetly when she opened the door for him, not even trying to hide the sarcasm. "I'm so glad my description helped."

He was trying to hide it, but oh yes she could see it. There was a touch of disbelief in his eyes, shock even, and a startling amount of _pain. _

Once again, her pleasure turned to ashes on her tongue for some reason.

"May I come in?" he asked, his voice gentle as ever, but slightly shaky.

"If it makes you happy," she replied with a shrug and turned her back on him to dig a coat out of her wardrobe, the grey one she'd bought a couple of years ago if she could find it.

He gallantly ignored the desolate state of her tiny, shabby lodgings and instead glanced out of the small window out at the city. "Nice view."

"I didn't know you came to admire the view from my window," she muttered, shaking her head, and hastily slammed the wardrobe door shut before he could admire the mess inside as well.

"Why, is there something else you would have me look at?" he gave back with a smirk, taking the coat and helping her into it before she could protest.

He stood right behind her, awfully close, one hand on her shoulder, one adjusting the strap of her dress. A finger stroked along her collarbone and she could feel her heartbeat speeding up, her breath catching in her throat.

"That's not how you're going to convince me…" he said very softly, his breath stroking over her ear, "…that I am nothing to you."

"I said I wanted you to disappear back to England," she replied, a little breathless. "I never said I wouldn't like to fuck you while you're here."

She could feel him flinch at her drastic choice of words which was the exact reason why she'd chosen them. She had to shock him, because right now that was the only way to get the upper hand again. And she desperately needed the distance between them back.

"I'm not that kind of man," he replied finally, his voice very soft and low, his hands resting on her shoulders.

She wound out of his grip and took a few steps back. "Oh please. In the face of the right woman, men are all the same." She threw him what she hoped to be a mocking smile, her heartbeat still a little too fast, and made her way to the door. "Are you coming?"

He looked up from his shoes and once again there was a flash of pain in his eyes. The smile playing around his lips was bitter. "Of course."

.

The road in front of the theatre was crowded and she almost missed the title of tonight's performance, _almost. _

She stopped dead in her tracks and Elijah extended an arm, clearly thinking she'd tripped on her high heels. But she just stared at the big black letters in utter disbelief, then turned to glare at him instead. Could he have been that thoughtless? Could he be cold enough to forget what meaning this particular piece had to her, to _them_? Her head was spinning.

She tried to catch enough breath to have a massive go at him, but then she changed her mind. _No, don't be stupid, he's doing this on purpose. No need to let him see it hurt you._

Katherine took a deep breath and when he threw her a worried look, she gave him a haughty smile and let him lead her to their places. They were sitting in the loge, excellent places as far as she could tell, and probably really expensive. She couldn't understand why he would make that much effort just to get back at her, the very cheapest of places would have sufficed for that.

She didn't know what disappointed her more, his perfidiousness or the fact she hadn't seen it coming. After everything that had happened between them, how could she _still _somehow believe into that façade of righteousness and politeness? Still blindly run into his little traps?

She angrily clenched her fingers around the armrests of the plushy chair and stared at the heavy burgundy curtains that hid the stage from view, not really seeing anything.

"You're all pale, are you feeling alright?" he asked softly and there seemed to be genuine worry in his voice. But she didn't believe it.

"Of course," she replied, her voice hollow and her gaze still fixed on the empty stage, and told herself that she hated him, that she wasn't feeling hurt but that she was simply _angry. _

The moment the first chord rang through the huge room, her eyes burned with tears and she thought that perhaps she was lying to herself.

But she _did _hate him. With fire and blood and all the strength she had left.

She almost wanted to get up and raise her arms because suddenly the steps were all back; suddenly she was standing on the stage herself, her old friend Bonnie to her right in the same white heavy tutu. Whenever she faced the audience, she could spot another familiar face – Doctor Fell who'd treated Caroline's pneumonia when they were twelve, her teachers Abigail Wilson, John Gilbert and Miranda Sommers, Caroline's mum Elizabeth and Bonnie's grandmother Sheila. Up in the loge she spotted Mayor Lockwood and the empty seat next to him that was certainly reserved for his son Tyler, and a few rows in front of them her headmistress Esther Mikaelson and beside her another empty seat – there was always an empty seat next to her, the other girls thought it was coincidence but it wasn't.  
She was reserving it for her husband.  
There was her son Klaus, his dark golden curls in dire need of a cut and his famished light eyes wandering aimlessly over the girls, trying to hide the proud little smile at the sight of his sister. The youngest Mikaelson, Kol, who looked like he was seconds away from falling asleep.

And between them, his hair jet black in the dark room, sat the one person she had been trying to glimpse all this time. Elijah Mikaelson was watching the dancers, a faint smile playing around his lips. He wiped it off, but it returned a moment later. She had never seen him looking this relaxed.

Now his smile was different, there was something exhausted and sad about it, and his brown eyes looked strangely vacant, yet he didn't look at her. She thought he seemed almost as hurt and unwilling to look upon her face as she was.

This time he had her convinced for a moment.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The moment the curtain closed again, the bizarrely nostalgic feeling that had had her in its grip during the performance gave way to another wave of all-consuming anger.

She jumped to her feet and rushed out of the theatre without another look at him, almost fell down the stairs at one point, but it didn't matter, as long as she could get _away from him. _

How could he do this to her? Hadn't he done enough? God, she _hated _that man.

It was childish, she knew that, but she still hated him.

She angrily rubbed over her cheeks and smeared mascara all over her face. A string of curses on the tip of her tongue, she pushed the door open with her shoulder and found herself outside the theatre in a cold drizzle, her thin shawl doing nothing to warm her.

Could this night get any worse?

"Kateri- _Katherine._"

"_What?_" she hissed, spinning around, and could only hope there was enough rain on her face to hide the tears. "Haven't you had enough yet?" She scoffed. "Taking me to see _Swan Lake,_ subtle. You like to pretend you're ever so noble, such a fucking saint, but you're just cruel."

He tried to say something, but she wasn't finished. God, it felt good to just say it, just this once.

"Why did you have to come? After everything you've done to me, why couldn't you just stay away? I was _fine _before you turned up, why did you have to ruin it all, what have I ever done to you?"

"Katherine," he said, very softly. "Calm-"

"_Don't you tell me to calm down_," she hissed, glaring at him. His dark hair was turning black and rain dripped into his face. Lacking a better word, she would have said he looked helpless, lost.

"Why can't you just go and leave me alone? Why won't you just _leave?_"

His face hardened and when he replied, his voice was harsh and painfully quiet. "Because I love you, that's why. Because you're miserable and - God, Katerina, let me help you," he added in a warmer tone, almost pleading.

She stared at him, utterly taken by surprise – such an emotional outburst coming from him of all people? It was almost touching to see him like that, he looked so very much like he had that rainy morning in Southampton and once again, he almost had her fooled-

But then her anger and her distrust got the better of her and she replied equally quiet, in a voice designed to cut deep: "No, Elijah, that's not love. Love's not real unless it's returned."

With that, she left him standing there in the rain and stiffly walked over to where the cabs were waiting, her throat tight.__

* * *

_***A/N***_ Well, it seems incomplete somehow, but I had to split the whole thing _somewhere…_ I'm a little insecure about this bit, so feedback, as detailed as you could make it, would be wonderful!


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen – January 1957**

At some point she started to ask herself what the taxi driver had to be thinking of her, the way she sat there in the backseat, desperately rubbing over her cheeks that were bound to be a screaming shade of red by now.

The poor guy seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "You a'right, sweetie?"

_No, I'm feeling awful. I'm transforming back into that little girl that tried to produce a second Atlantic ocean with all her embarrassing tears. I bloody hate myself. I'm pathetic. I'm stupid and I never learn_.

"I'm fine. Let me out at the corner, please," she muttered, a despicable touch of hoarseness in her voice that she was desperately trying to blame on the cold rain.

Katherine cursed under her breath while she paid the driver, while she got out of the car and while she climbed up the one-hundred and thirty-two steps to her apartment, cursed him with the worst swearwords she knew in every language that was known to her.

Then suddenly, on step one-hundred and eight, she had to think of Bonnie. Sweet, loyal Bonnie who was so superstitious that she would have believed all that cursing would kill Elijah Mikaelson on the spot. Bonnie whom she'd found sitting on her bed one evening, turning the pages of _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. _"At least he's got taste," she'd said with a sad smile when Katerina had sat down next to her. Then she'd put a hand on her shoulder and had added: "You know, I'm glad you're happy, you and Care. I _am, _especially for you, Kat, 'cause I think you needed it, but… there's something wrong with them, Kat, the whole family and I know you if I said stay away from them you wouldn't listen but… please promise me you'll be careful."

And stupid little Katerina had laughed it off and hadn't listened.

She tripped, almost lost her balance, and her fingers clenched around the battered handrail. All of sudden, she wasn't sure if her legs would carry her own weight.

_Bonnie… Oh God, she's dying._

.

He found her sitting on the top of the stairs, staring into empty space. She couldn't even bring herself to be surprised that he'd run after her _again. _

"Tell me, Katerina," he said softly, looking up at her from the landing. "Tell me and I'll go. You'll never see me again."

She raised her head and met his warm eyes. "Tell you what, Elijah?" Her voice was supposed to be harsh and cold, but it just sounded tired.

"Tell me what it is that I have done. Tell me why you're so angry with me."

"You really don't know, do you?" she whispered, shaking her head at him. She could not _believe _this man's arrogance. "You really think I should be grateful that you just stood by while your mother shipped me off to America. You really think I was _glad _to go-"

He stared at her in disbelief and shook his head. "You wanted to go, you _volunteered-_"

"Like I had a choice, Elijah. Like I'd had anywhere else to go." A hollow little laugh fell from her lips. "God damn it, I was _seventeen, _do you honestly think I wanted to go anywhere? Do you honestly believe I wanted to leave England?"

"Yes," he replied after a moment, still looking a little confused. "Yes, I believed that."

"Oh please, don't lie," she bit back, her voice a little stronger now, and got to her feet. "_Don't _lie. I don't deserve that, on top of everything. Of course you didn't believe that. You just didn't care."

He shook his head at her and leaned against the wall. "Why didn't you talk to me? All you had to do was ask, I would have-"

"Exactly, Elijah. I would've had to _ask. _I would have had to come to you, a man I'd known for half a year, a man I actually hardly knew-" Her eyes stung with tears again. She tried to fight them back and failed. "I would've had to come to you, empty-handed, and beg for help. Place my entire future in your hands, with no idea what you might do with it. No idea what might do with _me._"

He stared up at her, brow furrowed and his warm brown eyes strangely empty.

"You couldn't expect me to trust you like that," she said sharply. "Not when you would've rather died than tell anyone about me, not when you never even told me that you loved me. You've _used _me, that's what you've done. You had your fun and when you got bored with me you just dropped me. Oh, I bet you were glad I got the offer. It was _so _convenient, wasn't it? Or did you ask your mother to invite them? Was it you that suggested me, did you-"

"_Shut up._" She had never heard him sound this angry. "I never wanted you to go, _never - _Did it make you feel better, telling yourself that? Was it easier that way? That I was a selfish bastard who threw you away like a used tissue." He gave a cold, hard laugh. "God, if I tell Caroline that all this time you've been ignoring her letters because of some childish, deliberate misperception of the past events-"

"_Childish misperception? _You put guilt to a whole new level," she gave back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you know, it's alright. I guess I should be grateful." She threw him a fake little smile. "Thanks to you, there was nothing I had to fear when I came here. I mean, I was raped and I had my heart broken, what was there left to be scared of-"

The next moment, she felt herself being slammed backwards into the wall, his face inches away from hers. "Don't you dare putting me on the same step with that worthless, sick _bastard, _do not _dare-_" His fingers dug painfully into her shoulders and he gave her a violent shake. His eyes bore into hers and for some reason, he looked utterly desperate. "Say what you want about me, Katerina, but _I've loved you, _you have no right to say anything else, not after what I've done, _for you-_"

He pushed her away abruptly and turned away from her, but she didn't need to see his face to know he was crying. "It's torturing me, I'm _dreaming _of it, all the time – Don't you say I didn't love you, Katerina. Don't you dare."

The anguish in his voice was starting to frighten her. "And what's that great deed you did for me, Elijah?" she asked, but the sarcasm in her voice didn't even convince herself.

He was silent for so long she thought he wouldn't reply at all, but then he looked up at her, his eyes cold. "You never found out, did you? About what happened to Kolja?"

For a moment, she was completely at loss, but then she suddenly remembered-

_"__Someone beat him to death around the New Year, but Scotland Yard didn't find anything."_

_"__A neighbour saw a man, average height, dark hair, army clothes. That's all they ever got. My mother said they never had a single suspect, not even a motive."_

_"__For a long time, I felt alright. But what if I'm not? What if there's something _wrong_with me and I haven't noticed?"_

She stared at the man in front of her, the clean hands, the impeccable suit and those warm gentle eyes, and couldn't believe it.

It was so glaringly obvious – the eye witness's description could have fit on half of England, but it also fit _perfectly_ on him, how could she have missed it – but she still couldn't believe it.

Not him. Even after all those things she had accused him of over the years, all this time she'd tried to hate him, she still couldn't believe he was capable of something like _that._

"It was you," she breathed. "You killed him."

"Yes," he answered in a dead voice and leaned against the wall, looking too tired to stand upright even for another second.

"Why?"

"Provocation, drink, rage, unresolved trauma, have your pick," he replied indifferently and ran his hands over his face.

Deep down she knew she should be appalled, but she couldn't bring herself to be. A girl had died at her hands too after all, more or less. And, however dreadful it was, he'd done it for _her. _Done it because he had _cared _for her, enough to lose all self-control and break every rule that was known to him. Enough to abandon the person he had created, that man that he was so desperately trying to be.

She didn't know what it said about her, the fact that she cared more for the knowledge that he'd loved her, at least in that moment, than for the fact he'd beaten someone to death with his bare hands, someone she knew. She didn't really _want_ to know what it said about her.

Katherine just looked at him until he finally raised his head to return her gaze, then she said very softly: "Thank you."

"For telling you?" he asked, in a tired, strained tone.

"No," she replied with a headshake, her voice too soft and a smile on her lips against her will, then slowly got up the last stairs, fished her car keys out of her handbag and opened the door. Elijah turned to leave with a wistful smile. She watched him for a moment as he descended with slow steps, then swallowed the last of her pride – it was time to admit it, she couldn't just let him go.

"You look like you could do with a coffee."

He turned back towards her. "God yes, I certainly could."

She tried with a small smile and nodded towards her door. "Well, come up then, I won't bring it down there for you."

A smile played around his lips as well. "So after spending several days making me feel like a jump from a high building would make the best ending to _my _day, you forgive me. You forgive me because of what might be the most dreadful thing I've ever done in my life."

"No, I'm _considering _forgiving you," she replied, smiling back. "But you know, I can drink my coffee alone if you don't want any." She turned away from him and went into her flat to put the water on to boil, forcing herself not to look back to see if he'd followed.

That much she'd learned since then – ignoring a man was far more effective than running after him, and far less time consuming. When she heard the steps on her worn wooden floor, it was the first true victory she felt, pure, unsoiled victory; and she had to wipe a triumphant grin off her lips before he could see.

"Sugar?"

"Milk, please."

She smiled. "If I had milk, I would have offered it, sweetheart."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then seemed to change his mind and smiled. "Black, then, thank you."

For a moment, she busied herself with making the coffee; then she made a decision, handed him a cup and asked rather bluntly: "What, you just _gave up _on trying to get me back to England?"

"Why, would you listen to me if I tried again?"

"No, I just know you." She shrugged and leaned against the old fridge, looking at him over her steaming cup. "You don't just give up, you're plotting something."

"I'm not," he replied drily, staring out of the window again. "I _have _given up. It's hopeless, Katerina. I have hurt you far too much to call in a favour, I… I'm sorry. It was rude to demand anything of you." He threw her a sad little smile. "I never thought… I always believed that I was the only one to suffer from all this, I never considered what it must have looked like to you. That was selfish. I'm sorry."

She took another sip from her coffee, playing for time. She had no idea what to say to that.

"Six years, Elijah," she finally gave back with a helpless shrug. "This kind of thing becomes… time-barred, isn't that the term?"

"Yes," he replied with a grimace, then added very quietly: "Murder doesn't, though."

Katherine shook her head at him. "You're the lawyer, but… wouldn't that be manslaughter?"

He shrugged. "I could convince the jury of that, but that doesn't mean it doesn't feel like murder to me."

She watched him in silence for a while and thought how funny it was, how she had fantasised about hurting him for all those years, and now that he was right there and he _was _hurt, she hated it.

"You want me to forgive you?"

He looked up at her, clearly surprised about her sudden, misplaced question. "Of course. But I happen to know how hard it is to forgive someone who's hurt you."

Feeling oddly light-headed, she put down her cup and stepped closer to him. With quite some satisfaction, she noticed the confusion and slight panic in his brown eyes. "I know something that might help me."

His brown eyes flickered down to her lips for the fraction of a second, which for some reason made her feel extremely proud.

She smiled at him and took another step towards him.

"Like what?"

One last step. She tried to remember when she had last been that close to him. "Kiss me."

He raised a brow in surprise. "I honestly doubt that would make things any easier."

"It's never made anything any easier, but that never stopped you, did it? Go on, I dare you. I've spent my last six years playing the ice queen and you've spent them pretending you were dead." She ran her thumb over his lapel and added softly: "You wouldn't regret it, you know."

"I don't know you," he muttered and bent down to her. "I _would_ regret it."

His lips were on hers before she could answer, and it was probably better that way.

Because the only answer she had was _and you still know me better than I do. _

So instead of talking, she pushed her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer, her heart racing, but it wasn't nearly close enough. _God, _she'd missed him, she'd missed _this, _and she'd forgotten how addictive it was.

His hands gripped her shoulders and she stumbled backwards into the wall, but she still wasn't contented.

"You said I wouldn't regret this," he murmured against her lips and she felt even shakier.

"I might have lied," she replied softly and pulled him closer again.

His jacket slid to the floor all too easily. The shirt was in her way as well, but she had far more trouble with the wretched tiny little buttons. After a moment, he gently pushed her hands away and did it himself.

"This doesn't mean I'm not leaving," he whispered, eyes locked with hers.

"Doesn't mean I'm coming with you," she answered just as softly.

"Just as well," he gave back, almost smiling.

His lips returned to hers, his fingers found the zipper of her dress and they stopped the talking altogether.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The sun had risen when she woke up, and she was alone. For a moment, she felt strangely lost and had trouble recalling the events of the last night; but when it finally came to her, a smile tugged at her lips.

Over the course of the last six years, she had convinced herself she had idealised the memory of their time together – of course she had, it wasn't like she'd had a lot of lovers to compare him to. Not apart from Kolja, anyway, and he certainly didn't count.

But now she realised with a faint smirk that she hadn't idealised anything about the electricity between the two of them.

And besides, she honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd fallen asleep in someone's arms or the last time she'd cared so little about the next morning.

But now she had an odd, foreboding feeling, like something very important was about to happen.

It was only then that she realised that today was the day he would leave New York.

She sat up and stumbled out of bed, tripping over the grey dress that lay on the floor, mindlessly cast aside some time last night. Hastily, she dug out a skirt and a blouse and put them on, was almost out of the door before she noticed she was wearing the blouse inside-out.

In the narrow corridor, she smelled coffee. A relieved smile on her lips and she slowed her steps.

_How_ could she have thought he would leave? Not Elijah bloody Mikaelson, so stubbornly noble that even after six years he felt the need to apologise for staining her reputation. Oh no, he would not disappear like that, not when he'd just spent the night in her bed.

"Is there a cup left for me?"

"There's plenty," he replied softly, eyes on the table top of her tiny dining table. "Coffee is the only thing you have in this kitchen, is it?"

"I don't eat much, and mostly in the city." She shrugged and sat down opposite him, painfully aware of the dust and the breadcrumbs on the table and the mismatched furniture. "Thanks."

His coffee was dreadfully strong, but she pretended not to notice.

"I'm leaving, Katerina," he said softly and finally looked up at her, his brown eyes dark and warm. "Tonight, I'll take the ship back to Southampton."

She wanted to say something like _I'm sorry to hear that, _something like _I don't want you to,_ but she couldn't bring herself to utter a single word, just nodded and stared into her cup.

"There's still a ticket waiting for you. You owe your friend that much, I think. Caroline would be over the moon to see you again and," a sad little smile played around his lips for a moment, "I wouldn't mind having you around for a little longer, either."

"I can't," she answered. "The moment I lose this job, I'm gonna stand on the street. I have no savings, no valuables, nothing. Even if I wanted to, Elijah, I couldn't go back. Damon and Stefan are just waiting for a reason to fire me, if I left, even just for a week, I'd never get the job back. And the job's all I have. I lose that, I lose everything."

He turned the coffee cup in his hands for a moment, then replied slowly: "You could stay. You were never happy here, Katerina. You could return home."

"And then what?" She gave a dead little laugh. "Be your cleaning lady? I'd never find work in London, Elijah, I'm not good enough, and too old."

"The school is always short of teachers," he gave back with a smile. "Caroline could convince my brother to employ you."

"And again, I'd be forever in your dept." She refilled her cup, then raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "I want my own life, Elijah. I didn't want to come begging for your help when I was seventeen and I don't want to now."

He sighed. "I'm not offering you my pity, Katerina, I'm offering you another possibility. Certainly more hope than the life that's waiting for you here." He rose from his chair and put down his cup, his eyes never leaving hers. Before she could react, he'd pulled her to her feet and crushed his lips against hers, almost violently, a hand buried in her hair and one warm on her back.

It was different from the kisses the night before, not as rushed, not as greedy.

She didn't quite know what to make of that kiss and the passion and the finality of it.

"Elijah…"

He ran a hand along her jawbone tenderly and smiled, then placed a slip of white paper on her dirty table and said softly: "I'll leave it here for you. There is still time."

She returned his smile, not shaky and teary-eyed like she had back in England, but steady and sincere, if a little sad. "Is this goodbye, then?"

"It doesn't have to be, Katerina," he replied, his voice almost back to his schoolmasterly tone; but when he went on, his voice seemed brittle and almost reluctant. "You wouldn't let anyone help you back then. Perhaps it's time now…"

He broke off, shook his head and said, his tone firmer now: "I won't beg you to come with me." He looked her in the eyes, didn't let her go. "Make the right decision, Katerina." His voice was gentle, quiet; almost tender. Then, before she could say anything, he turned away brusquely and left her flat with swift, rigid steps.

She stared after him and felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Her stomach clenched and the ghost of last night's kisses burned on her skin.

As if hypnotised, she stared at the ticket on the table, that white, nondescript piece of paper with those faithful black letters on it.

_New York (USA) - Southampton (UK)_

She just sat there for an undefinable amount of time, just eyeing that threatening ticket cautiously as if it was about to attack her. When she finally dared to move again and finished her coffee, it was cold and she almost spit it out again. She put the cup into the sink and backed out of the room, eyes still fixed on the white paper on her table.

She was running late for rehearsals.

With slow, apathetic movements, she gathered up the clothes strewn over her bedroom floor, desperately trying to clear her head. He had been right, it was time – but was it time to move on or was it time to look back?

She would most definitely be late.

After some time, she somehow found herself standing in front of the mirror, blindly staring at her reflection, and wondered who the hell she even was. _Katherine Pierce? _

No, that woman in the mirror looked nothing like Katherine. Whoever she was, her hair was a mess, her lips looked bizarrely pale without the red lipstick and her eyeliner was smudged and anyhow too fine and restrained.

She'd missed half an hour of the rehearsal already.

Her brown eyes looked back at her quizzically, the tight curls were fighting back into her carefully styled brown hair and suddenly it hit her she was still wearing the white pearl earrings. _Kat, _she thought and it was Caroline's voice that she heard in her head, Bonnie's voice.

The rehearsal was over.

And she still stood in front of that mirror, motionless, feeling like a puppet cut from its strings. Whatever orientation she had found in the past few years had somehow disappeared again just as suddenly as _he_ had.

But now, there was another memory on her mind; another voice whispering another name, and her heart ached at the painfully familiar sound.

_Katerina._

* * *

_***Author's Note*** _Originally this was the very last "proper" chapter and the epilogue followed right after, but then I felt like it lacked transition, so that means you've got a super-short chapter Nineteen to look forward to ^^.  
I'm pretty proud of this chapter, anyway, especially the ending (I kind of like how it mirrors the beginning of chapter one, I even managed to make the first word of chapter one the last word of this chapter *yay*).  
I hope this clarifies any questions about the conflict they had – I'm so glad I didn't really need an actual _bad guy _to create a conflict, because I think that misunderstandings like this are much more realistic. I would very much like to hear your thoughts on this! Was it realistic? Out of character? Did it disappoint you (I hope not)? Please write a comment and tell me how you liked it!


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen – January 1957**

The screeching of the gulls woke him and he felt as though a heavy weigh was lifted off his chest. Gulls meant they were getting closer to the continent again.

He got up and put on some fresh clothes, but even they smelled of steam and salt just like everything else on that goddamned ship. Sighing, he combed through his hair and stared blindly into the mirror, wondering not for the first time whether he wouldn't already come too late for the funeral.

God knew he felt like he'd been away for years.

When he stepped out of the cabin and was faced with a vast, never ending ocean, he vowed he would never set foot on a ship again. He had seen enough grey water to last him the rest of his days.

He walked around on deck idly for what felt like hours, glancing at his watch every two minutes.

"Look, darling," said the man standing next to him suddenly, lifting his little boy up so he could see over the balustrade, "that's Ireland there, can you see it?"

Elijah followed his neighbour's gaze and felt a relieved smile tug at his lips. Who would have thought he would ever be so eager to come home?

He pushed his hands deeper down his pockets and continued his aimless stroll around the deck.

.

He found her standing on the highest point of the ship that was accessible to passengers and watching the outlines of the shore come closer, her bare fingers clutching the rail.

He joined her and fixed his gaze on the blurry bit of green and brown on the horizon as well, telling himself there would be a time and a place to look at her, but right now he had to give her space.

"It must be somewhere here," she said suddenly, smiling a little.

"What must be here?"

"The first page."

He threw her a confused glance.

"The one you wrote your little goodbye letter on. I ripped it out and threw it overboard somewhere around here. I'm still waiting for it to float by," she explained with mild sarcasm, still smiling, and tucked a stray curl back underneath her bonnet.

Suddenly he realised her right wrist was bare. For a moment he considered asking her about it, but then refrained from it. It wasn't his business how she dealt with all this, and she could have thrown that bracelet into the Atlantic as well for all he cared.

The only thing that mattered was that she'd appeared on the pier, dramatic as always, in the very last minute, a battered little suitcase in hand. That she had boarded the ship and hadn't looked back once.

"Now, don't expect anything from me," she'd told him in a cold voice that didn't match the look in her eyes, "I'm doing this for Bonnie."

"I know," he'd replied, hiding a smile. He truly didn't have any expectations. He had no idea what would happen when they got home, no idea what she would do after the funeral, no idea what the future held for him, either… but at the moment, he honestly didn't care.

He had got her back, an achievement that made him feel very proud, hopeful… almost absolved.

"Welcome home, Katerina."

She didn't look at him, but she smiled, and he allowed himself to hope, just for a tiny moment, while he watched his homeland slowly drawing closer.

* * *

**_*A/N* _**Again, this one was not in the original draft, but – even though I do love my time-jumps and all – I felt like it didn't really go smoothly the way I had it, so I added this little thing. I really went wild with the motives of absolution and coming home and all, I know, but it does say drama so I thought the end could do with a little not-so-subtle imagery ;)

So, did you think this was necessary? Or would you rather I'd surprised you with her decision in the epilogue? Thoughts and comments are welcome as always, and if there is anything you still want to know, just ask!


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue – September 1960**

He glanced at his watch and cursed. He couldn't believe it had got so late again, not today.

When he pulled into the driveway, it was almost dark and he was out of the car before he glimpsed the two figures in the fading daylight.

"What are you two doing out here?"

"I wanted to go outside," Hope replied, smiling at him.

"She's a little wolf, she likes the dusk," Klaus added and ruffled his daughter's hair. "That and, well, avoiding the mistress." He grimaced, but that faint trace of a smile didn't leave his face.

Elijah rolled his eyes. "Will you two ever _not _fight?"

His brother smirked at him. "That would be one hell of a boring marriage… done with that case of yours?"

"Yes, finally," he muttered, then turned towards the old mansion and looked up at the welcoming light in the windows. "Well, I won't roam the grounds with you today, Hope, but your father is much better at that anyway."

"Well, I'm out of training since you always ran after me and dragged me back home, brother," Klaus replied with a grin.

Elijah chuckled and made his way towards the house, relieved to no end to finally be _home_.

The hall was dark. He threw a glance into the living room. There was nobody there, but he stood in the doorway for a moment longer, recalling that evening three and a half years ago.

.

_"__It was today," she muttered, staring out of the window. "Today, six years ago."_

_He put his glass down and stood up to stand next to her. "I know," he replied very softly, then laughed and shook his head. "That's… that's why I didn't go to work. It's silly… I just woke up today and I was insanely scared that if I'd leave the room, you would disappear."_

_She turned to look at him, then she smiled, gripped him by the jacket and kissed him. "I'm not going anywhere."_

_"__Right, about that," he began reluctantly. "Listen… those past six years were arguably the worst years of my life and I would do just about anything to spare myself such pain in the future. So… I know that's a shabby motivation, but I don't want to lose you ever again-"_

_"__I said I'm not going anywhere."_

_"__You know me, I like to make sure," he replied with a faint smile. "I know it's early and that I should probably wait, but I don't want to."_

_"__Wait?"_

_"__Well, it hasn't been very long since New York and even less since we…"_

_"…__decided we were too old for an affair?"_

_He grimaced. "Yes. But try to see it from my perspective… I'm turning _thirty-three_this year, you have no idea how old that sounds, and, well, the way I see it I should have asked this question six years ago. So, listen-"_

_"__I'm listening, but I think you'll never get to the point of this, Elijah," she said with a smile._

_"__I know, I'm rambling, I'm sorry," he broke off when he saw her smile widen and asked: "What?"_

_She just shook her head, still smiling, and muttered: "You really haven't changed."_

_A fleeting smile tugged at the corner of his lips, then he retried: "Back then … I loved you because, despite what Niklaus made you believe, you were – you still are – my only chance to ever feel whole again."_

_"__Elijah, please, we've been through this…" she muttered, but he cut her off._

_"__No, please, I have to hear myself say it, just this once… I was insanely scared. I was scared of how you changed me, so I let you go and I am sorry. I deserted you when you needed me. I'll never forgive myself for that."_

_She bit her lip and put a hand on his shoulder, looking like she wanted to say something, but he went on before she could._

_ "__We both learned to live without the other, I suppose, but I don't think I could ever be this happy. In that regard, you are my only hope, Katerina," he said softly. "So, I… I cannot grant you salvation, but I'm offering you the same hope, and the promise I will never fail you again."_

_After a moment, a little smile played around her lips. "Well, that's all very sweet, Elijah," she said, shaking her head. "You always like to make so many words, but you'll have to ask the question just like everyone else if you want my answer."_

_He smiled. "I will, darling, patience. It's just that I _am _getting old and I'd be in pain if I had to kneel through all of this, so I thought it'd be better to get that over with beforehand."_

_Katerina laughed, folded her arms and leaned against the wall, eying him with a lively spark in her dark eyes._

_He had thought he would take hours to utter those few words, but in the end, they came almost by themselves. _

_"__Will you marry me?"_

_She smiled down at him, raised a finger when he tried to get up and said: "Oh no, stay down. I like a man on his knees."_

_A grin stole on his lips, but he did her bidding. "Why am I not surprised?"_

_Katerina smirked and shook her head. "Doesn't there come jewellery with all this?"_

_"__All in good time. May I take that as a yes?"_

_She just smiled that mischievous, unreadable smile of hers and bent down to kiss him. She took her time, deliberately making him wait, clearly aware of how every passing second wrecked his nerves. Then, finally, her fingers still gripping his collar, she whispered into his ear, her mirth almost audible in her voice: "You may take that as a yes."_

_He allowed himself a relieved smile – had he not been ninety-nine per cent sure that this would be her answer, he would have never asked, but there had always been that threatening little chance of a no._

_"__In your right-hand pocket."_

_She reached into the pocket of her jacket with a frown, then grinned and slowly pulled out the small object. "How did I not notice that?"_

_He smiled. "Oh, I think it's quite relieving to know you still find my kisses distracting."_

_._

He turned away with a smile, threw a look into the kitchen, then made his way up the stairs, glancing at his watch. Where had he been at this time three years ago? Probably still on the dancefloor – he'd danced more on that one day than he had the previous six years…

It was past nine, but he still threw a look into Rebekah's old room against his better judgement. They had hardly changed anything about it, there were still the white walls and the white furniture, the same colourful painting on the wall, the same turquoise carpet that Rebekah insisted looked like the sea. He was fairly certain that even the crib had once belonged to his sister.

The room was dark, but he could still smell a faint trace of smoke – Katerina often lit a candle when she was reading a bedtime story.

The sight of the little girl, curled up between the pillow and her favourite teddy bear and fast asleep, made him smile. He sat down on the chair next to the crib. The old wood gave a soft creak and the infant shifted, gazing sleepily up at him with her dark brown eyes. She mumbled something, still in her very own language – only last week she had uttered the first understandable word.

"Hush," he breathed and gently adjusted the padding in front of the bars. "Everything's alright, princess."

For a moment, she seemed to consider properly waking and screaming, then her eyes fell shut again.

The finger of light on the carpet grew wider as the door was pushed open a little more. "Knew I'd find you here. I suppose I should be jealous," she whispered, smiling a little. "I mean, it's our bloody wedding anniversary and Nadia's still the one you go to. Not to mention it's almost ten."

He got to his feet, threw a last glance at their daughter and gently closed the door. "Well, then the watch you gave me isn't working properly because it says half past nine on it, Mrs Mikaelson-"

"You did say eight," she replied, still with the faintest grin on her lips. "I made dinner, took me hours, you _know _I can't cook, and now it's all getting cold-"

He grinned and hung his coat over the balustrade of the gallery. "I'll eat it anyway."

"It'll taste horrible," she shot back, still grinning.

"I swear I'll eat it. Whatever it is," he replied and ran a hand through her curls. "You know, now that it's cold anyway…"

"Oh no, I've stood in the kitchen for hours, I'm starving," she muttered and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before taking his hand and dragging him down the stairs. "Come on. You married me, there is no putting off my cooking skills any longer," she shot him a dirty look, "no matter how desperately you've been trying these days."

"Did you throw my brother out or are they really fighting again?"

"_Damn_ that man, he's such a good liar for anyone but me," she hissed and he instantly regretted bringing it up – there wasn't much love lost between his wife and Niklaus.

"Don't be angry, darling, he tried," he said hastily. "He's still my little brother, though. I'd be very shocked if he could lie without me noticing it."

Katerina scoffed. "Sure. You weren't even supposed to run into him, I told Care to go out."

"And leave the kids here? Now where's the point in that?" he asked with a grin. "Either we have the house to ourselves or we don't."

She rolled her eyes at him. "And for such immaturity you'll get a second helping of my wonderful pie, sweetheart," she muttered darkly, but he could see she was fighting a smile herself.

"I won't be punished for being immature, that is your fault," he muttered and lit the candles on the table for her, trying to supress a smile at the sight of her pie that looked every bit as misshapen he'd feared it would. "I was perfectly grown-up without you."

She shook her head, poured some wine and sat down opposite him. "I'd say you don't have to eat it, but _you _of all people not being on time makes me fairly angry, so I won't."

He sighed and helped himself to some dinner. If it was as dreadful as she'd said, he probably deserved it. "I'm sorry, I _tried-_"

"You tell your daughter that, Elijah. She hardly gets to see you, and if you don't do something about that her first complete sentence will be _has daddy left us?"_

He winced at that, but she wasn't finished. "_I _hardly get to see you. I think I've seen your sister more often than you this month, and as much as I love Care, it's no fun spending my evenings sitting on the couch next to your brother."

There were some things at the tip of his tongue – _one day we might need the money, Nadia will need the money – _but that wasn't what she wanted to hear and he wasn't in the mood for discussions. Not today. So he raised his wine glass instead and tried with a rueful smile. "To three years, and the years to come, during which I'll try to do better. I promise."

Katerina smiled reluctantly, her dark eyes shining in the candlelight. _She grows more beautiful by the day_, he thought and allowed himself a tiny moment of pride at the sight of the fine golden ring shining on her right hand.

"I'll take you up on that, Elijah."

He smiled back at her and reached for her hand across the table. "I'm counting on it."

.

_"__Elijah, you do know that Caroline will kill you if she finds out that you dared setting eyes on me before the big day?"_

_"__Only _if _she finds out," he replied, smiling at her, and sat down next to her. "Are you alright? Nervous? Cold feet?"_

_She rolled her eyes. "You know you're the _fourth_person to ask me that today? I mean, I did expect your sibling's death threats, but Care… Does none of you have any faith in me?"_

_"__Well, you once told me that running was the thing you were best at-"_

_Katerina smiled mildly and stepped closer to the window before turning back around. "I'm done running."_

_He watched her, her curls almost black in the fading light, the faint glint of the diamond on her finger catching his eye. He smiled and pressed another kiss to her lips. "See you tomorrow. I'll try not to miss you."_

_"__In _that_dress I will be very hard to miss, love," she shot back with a mirthful spark in her dark eyes._

_He shook his head at her, both hands still buried in her hair. "I love you."_

_"__I know," she muttered into his ear, then pushed him off with a laugh. "Now get _out, _before Care finds you here and chops our heads off_. _I swear she has telepathic knowledge of it if I do anything against her pre-wedding rules."_

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Explosions were ringing in his tormented ears and he was running though he had no idea where to – there was nowhere to run to anyway. There was mud on his clothes, pulling him to the ground; the air was full of dust, there was dust in his eyes and his lungs, he couldn't move, he couldn't see, he couldn't _breathe_, he couldn't…

"Honey, wake up. Wake up. Calm down."

For a moment, he had no idea where he was; his heart was racing and his breath going too quickly. The world around him was dark. After a painfully long moment, he recognised the voice and remembered. He dropped back into the pillow with a heavy sigh.

"'s alright, sweetheart, your safe," she muttered sleepily and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're home."

He was still trying to catch his breath, but a little smile tugged at his lips and he pulled his wife closer, running his hand through her soft hair.

Quite right.

It had taken a long, long time, but he was _home._

.

.

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**The End**

* * *

_Some additional information: _

1) Elijah and Katerina made it in time for the funeral, but Bonnie didn't live to see Kat again.

2) Rebekah still has her on/off-thing with Marcel, but I guess she's pretty happy. She and Klaus are making plans for her to take over the school (so Klaus can earn his money with something he actually likes doing, I guess ^^).

* * *

_*****__**Author's Note*** _

Once more, a huge thank you and a big hug to LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou for beta-reading! And special thanks to everyone who reviewed this story, especially SweetyK who was kind enough to leave a review on almost every chapter ;)

IT IS DONE. I can't believe it. I can't believe I managed to finish this story – I have never before managed to finish a multi-chapter fic with a stringent plot. Wow. I'm so proud of myself :) I just realised I drew an accidental parallel between this one and the prologue – I mean did you notice how it all started with him waking up and ended with him falling asleep, because I honestly didn't. And, for reasons I can't quite fathom, I am really proud of how this story just finished _exactly _ten years after the first chapter.  
I hope the flashbacks weren't too confusing, but I really wanted some kind of closure here without having to write even more chapters.

.

Well, guys, this is it – please tell me what you think of my ending ^^ I hope you didn't think it was too cheesy, I just felt like they deserved a happy ending after everything I've put them through *insert evil laugh here*.

Feel free to recommend my story and have a look at the other texts I've written!


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